


Distracting Desires

by UraharaSteph



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Connor x Reader - Freeform, Detective Work, Drama, Drug Use, Drugs, Drunk Sex, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fuckbuddies, Mystery, POV Second Person, Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Plot, Porn, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Sex, Smut, bad language, just a hint, plot i promise, reader & Chris Miller are friends, slight hint of Gavin x Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23165050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UraharaSteph/pseuds/UraharaSteph
Summary: The DPD are understaffed thanks to a certain uprising.With so many positions that need to be filled, you find yourself thrust into different roles to pick up the slack. It's not long before you see the cogs turning in the shadows; the world of crime is changing. Now more than ever, you all need to focus.Smut, porn, fluff, romance, drama and a mystery to be solved.Connor X Reader with just a 'hint' of Gavin X Reader.Just a hint...Alright, a bit more than just a hint.
Relationships: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) & You, Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Reader, Connor RK800/reader, Connor/Reader, Connor/You, Gavin Reed/Reader, Gavin Reed/You
Comments: 104
Kudos: 344





	1. Patrol

**Author's Note:**

> So, not all of this had been proof-read yet, but I have to post it before I lose my bottle!  
> It's pretty graphic in a sexual nature at the end of this chapter, so keep that in mind.  
> Hopefully this story should have a healthy balance of plot and smut, but we shall see.  
> This story is in Second Person and using (y/n) and (l/n) only. (Your name and Last name).

With Detroit being a catastrophic, plastic-ridden shithole, the Detroit City Police Department (DPD) was lacking human officers to enforce law and order.

When the androids rose up (albeit as peacefully as they could), terrified citizens panic bought toilet rolls and forced themselves onto every bus, train, plane or van that could get them safely out of the city. Thousands of people left their lives behind them. Some reluctantly, some out of pure fear. Some of them were members of the DPD. 

Not everyone had the luxury to scamper away with their tails tucked between their legs. If you didn't have the money or couldn't find the transport, you were stuck in the fucked epicentre of the android revolution, at the mercy of the androids, or more terrifyingly, the government. 

Poor families who couldn't rip up their roots to replant themselves in places like Canada did what they could; barricaded their homes and stockpiled non-perishables. Then there were people who wished to live alongside androids peacefully and stayed in the city to work on that utopian future. Of course, there were red ice addicts lounging around, too high and out of it to even recognise the world had changed. 

With humans still in Detroit, there was a need for authority and justice. A need for protection. A need for police officers. That is why you had volunteered to stay in Detroit and help pull the threads of the understaffed DPD back together. That, and you had absolutely nowhere else to go and not enough bog roll to get you there. 

You sighed as you poured yourself a cup of coffee. You didn't particularly want a drink, you were just going through the motions of what usually happened in the break room. When you turned around, you spotted just one other person in the room, watching something on his phone with a dumb smirk on his face.

“Chris?” you were shocked to see him. “I thought you would have evacuated?! What are you still doing here? Your son?! It could be dangerous to-"

“Whoa, whoa, slow down there.” He paused his video and smiled warmly. Despite his lips; a coldness lay in his eyes. It wasn't directed at you, but born from trauma and the realisation that he was most definitely mortal. It wasn't the first time you had stared into the void of a police officer's eyes, but it was the first emptiness to greet you in Chris'.

“My wife and son are safely out of town. I went with them too but,” his words caught on his tongue. He shook his head, not believing his own train of thoughts. “After Markus himself spared me... I did a lot of thinking and a lot of hugging and holding Damien.” 

That was his kid, right? You had seen the baby pictures. A wrinkled prune that was _cute_ in his own vulnerable sort of way. 

“I couldn't sleep at night without reliving that moment when the androids surrounded me, debating my fate, measuring my worth.” He glazed over; knelt before a phantom Markus in his mind. “I was waking up in the middle of the night more than Damien for his milk. I needed to get back here. I guess as a sort of closure? I need to see this through, you get me?” Chris looked at you expectantly. 

You didn't really get it. If you had been almost torn apart by androids, the last thing you would want would be to stay in the Android Capital, surrounded by plastic limbs and blue blood. 

“Yeah, I get you.” You said anyway, noting the gratefulness on his face. “I can't believe you wife is okay with this though.”

Chris stared off elsewhere, lips pressed together as he breathed in sharply through his nose. “Er, no. She's pretty angry with me. We erm, actually had a big fight about all this.” 

The deafening silence that befell the break room made it painfully obvious there would be no more discussion about his home life. A lot was churning around in his head, you figured he needed time to organise his own thoughts before he opened up any more to you more. 

“So!” you took a sip of your drink. “I heard Gavin ran for it?”

Chris chuckled. “Yeah, he's left for now, but I recko-"

Before slagging off Gavin could get underway, Jeffery Fowler entered the room. He had his hands on his hips and stood tall with a tired authority. Recent turmoil had taken its toll on him and you suspected that he might throw in the towel and retire soon. However, his focused stare and his confident aura still commanded respect. 

“Miller, (l/n), I hate to disturb you both when you're shifts haven't officially started yet, but I need someone out on the streets. It's gone to shit out there. People think they can just loot whatever the fuck they want so we need more presence on the roads. Show them that burglary and stealing is still a crime and we're not going to stand for it.”

You put your cup down with a sigh and adjusted your trousers. “Alright, I don't mind going back on patrol." You hated patrol. “If Chris and I split up, he can nor-”

“No.” Fowler glowered. “I'm not having my officers walking around individually when its too damn dangerous out there.” He pointed his chin at Chris and the young officer stood to attention, patiently waiting for his orders. “Miller, I'm putting you on patrol with Kirsty, the PM700 model. We're lucky she wants to stick around and work with us after the shit hit the fan.”

“Kirsty?” Chris dug around his memory and managed to vaguely match a face to that name. If it was the lass he thought it was, then she had been an officiant and obedient patrol android. Kept calm and took a tonne of shit from abusive trouble makers. He wondered what she'd be like now she was her own person. “I think I know the one.”

You placed a hand on the table, leaning on it. Normally you'd have a straight back and a plucky go-getter attitude, but now you felt grizzled and like a true seasoned officer. 

“Why can't Chris and I patrol together? We make a great team.” You smiled at him and he nodded his head in agreement. 

Captain Fowler still had a foul face on. “With everything that's going on, I'm trying to keep my patrol pairs one human and one android whenever possible. Hopefully that means you will be equipped for dealing with any trouble that should arise whether by flesh hands or plastic hands. (L/n), I'm putting you on with Connor, the RK800.”   
Your eyes widened. The legend himself walking the stagnant streets with little ol' you. “You demoted Connor to a beat cop as well?” You almost felt like laughing. 

Fowler sighed. “No, we're just _understaffed_.” His voice was strained and stressed. He had clearly said ‘understaffed' hundreds of times in the past few days but it didn't seem to be sinking in for anyone. “He's still working his cases with Hank, but he's volunteered to take on more hours. He said as long as I'm paying him he doesn’t mind going on patrol. Smug bastard said he doesn't need sleep anyway.” 

Chris tucked his chair in and got himself ready for his shift. “Androids get paid now?”

“Yeah. Jericho are pushing for equal rights. It's not officially law yet, but it will be soon. It's best for us to lead by example.” Fowler rubbed his forehead in an attempt to lull his headache back to sleep. He was neck deep in work and was one breakdown away from saying ‘fuck it’ and retiring. You were pretty impressed by the fact he was here at all. 

You bid Chris a farewell and a 'good luck'. You tried to hide the smile on your lips. The satisfaction of getting to patrol with Connor was pulsing around your body. You felt taller than everyone else in the precinct. 

“So where can I find Detective Connor?” you asked. 

The Captain started to leave, checking his phone as he walked. “He's finishing a report at his desk. Just make sure you're out on the street by 3pm.”

“No problem, Captain. Oh- what route are we do-"

“Your old one!” He scurried off to his glass box office. He needed the peace and quiet away from people. there'd only be a minute or two of respite before the onslaught of phone calls and video conferences. 

You gave him a sympathetic look. It must have been hard work.

Then your eyes slid over to Connor's desk. He was typing in-humanly fast. Sometimes he'd close his eyes and the ring on his temple would flicker yellow before something new magically appeared on the screen. Technology was a wonderful and dangerous thing. 

A subconscious desire to straighten your shirt, fix your hair and check your breath overtook you as you approached the focused android. You had spoken to him on a few occasions and he came across as friendly. **Now** he was **deviant**. A part of you was excited to meet the Connor that had been chained up behind his programming. 

“Hey Connor, looks like you're my patrol partner today.” 

“Officer (l/n), it's good to see you.” He hit the submit button as though he had planned to finish his report the moment you arrived. “I hope you've been well?”

“It's just (y/n). I've been keeping well, yeah. Y'know, aside from being overworked and having shit thrown at me on the street because I'm not just a cop, I’m also human. Turns out neither of those things are popular right now.”

Connor's eyebrows drew together in concern. “People have been throwing things at you?” He had an honest naivety about him, reminiscent of a puppy figuring out the big bad world.

You laughed. “Oh yeah, you'll see it first hand today"

And he did. 

As the two of you patrolled the more built up areas of Detroit, sidling through alleyways and checking tucked away corners, you encountered enraged androids and pissed off Red Ice dealers. 

When late-afternoon had faded into the early winter darkness, a group of protesting androids were packing away in the plaza. Placards with slogans like ‘No humans in my city!’ and ‘Detroit should be a safe haven' were stacked upon one another.

A few weeks ago it had been bands of anti-android demonstrators who stood in that same place. Androids taking jobs or breaking up marriages were often common themes. It was almost ironic to see the androids complain about humans now. 

When you walked by with Connor, the ‘leader’ of the riff-raff (a WG700 Connor had quietly pointed out), shouted abuse. You ignored it; it was nothing new. Humans tried to antagonise you all the time and you _hardly_ ever succumbed to the taunts.

You were about to make a snide comment about the group to Connor but squeaked instead.

Connor swiftly put his hands on your waist and manoeuvred you out of the way of a projectile tin can. The disgruntled android, the WG700, stomped up to the two of you. Connor watched him with a stern glare, his hands still on your waist, as though he was being protective and almost territorial.

_This is my human._ Though that was a silly fantasy on your part. He was just being protective of his valued colleague.

The protester pointed a finger at you and began to growl in gruff tones. “Disgusting! How can androids and humans work side by side?! You ought to be replaced by one of us! Waste of space you are. And you!” he switched his attention to Connor who tilted his head and listened patiently. “You're a traitor.” 

Connor raised an eyebrow. “Strange. I remember Markus striving for peace and had high hopes for a future where androids and humans can coexist as equals. Perhaps the traitor here is **you**? Or should we just agree to disagree and accept we have differing opinions?” 

He was so calm and soft spoken, yet held himself with a certain sureness that _dared_ others to try and start trouble. He'd stamp out any temper tantrums within minutes. 

And his hands were still on your waist.

The WG700 ground his teeth and backed down. He continued to chant his anti-human lines with a chorus of others while his eyes watched the two of you leave. He packed away his bits and pieces in a large duffel bag. He'd be back again tomorrow with the same toxic messages. 

Now that your waist was free from Connor's warm palms, you felt like you could breathe and think again. “You diffused that pretty easily. Normally they give me a quick push around and get in my face when I try to answer back. Guess I understand why Fowler wanted humans and androids to patrol in pairs from now on.” You smiled at Connor but his vision was fixed ahead, a hard expression on his face. “Are you okay?”

“Hm?” he blinked and snapped out of his own head. “Yes. I was just thinking that I’ve been regarded as a traitor a lot these past couple of weeks. I betrayed CyberLife, Humans and I would have betrayed androids if I hadn't become deviant. Now, trying to build a peaceful future for androids and humans alike still gets me labelled as a traitor. I just can't seem to win.”

You chuckled and scratched your cheek. “Yeah, er, welcome to being human I guess. You can't make everyone happy no matter how hard you try.” You gave him a solid pat on the arm. “Just concentrate on not betraying your friends.” 

“Friends. Right.” 

“Like me.” You prompted, realising that he perhaps hadn't made too many friends while being in the middle of the fray. He had Hank of course, but there was no reason you couldn't wiggle your way into the handsome android’s social circle.

“You?” He regarded you. “I hadn't considered you as a friend-"

“Ouch! That's so blunt!” You whined.

Realisation hit him like a truck. “Oh, not that I don't think you would make a fine friend! I just did not realise we had spent enough time together to form a friendship.” 

A sly smirk crept onto your lips. You narrowed your eyes and unconsciously sent him a ‘come hither' command. In fact, he genuinely did lean a bit closer to you as you walked the streets and talked.   
“Perhaps we should fix that then? Maybe go and get a few drinks after work? Get drunk and discuss the intricacies of the universe.”

Connor straightened his tie and was released from the spell in your eyes. “Androids cannot get drunk.” He stated factually.

“Well, you can just listen to my drunken ramblings then.” 

Connor laughed quietly. “I have enough of that with Hank, but thank you for the offer.” 

You nudged him. “So no drinks. What would **you** want to do then? How do you unwind?” 

“Hm.” Connor fondled the coin in his pocket as he processed that question. “I don't actually know. I haven't really had time to ‘unwind' and whenever I haven't been working or upsetting the status-quo, I've been reining in Hank or in stasis. Things have been... busy.”

“The world is our oyster then!” You chimed optimistically.

“What do you usually do to relax?” He asked while he scanned various faces and kept vigilant for any illicit activities.

You stared dead ahead as embarrassing glimpses of past nights out came to mind. Perhaps it was best to stick to the mundane stuff for now. “Er, I usually play video games, read, listen to music. Generic junk that most people do.” 

“I've never fully understood the appeal of video games and books. I should clarify I mean fictional writings when I refer to books. Gleaning information from books and recording data in them is extremely useful for your kind, considering you don't exactly have the vast data banks we androids do in here.” He tapped his head.

The way the light from the street lamps caught his features really made that aura of superiority glow. Connor hadn't meant to gloat or try to imply that he was better than you; he would never want to offend, but he certainly knew he was remarkable. You weren't going to deny it, either. Androids were smart, quick and strong. The only reason they had been at the bottom of the food chain was because they were programmed to **obey**. 

That wasn't there any more. 

And you were glad. 

They were their own living species. Alien, in some ways and all too familiar in others.

“I can lend you a book, if you like?” You offered, mentally running a finger over your small library to try and think of a good recommendation. 

“No need.” Connor assured. “I have access to most literature up here.” Another tap of the temple. 

“Alright, what about a video game then?” 

“Ah.” He smiled. That was one thing he couldn't accurately emulate. Especially not legally. If he tried to download a game, he'd probably catch a virus and get arrested for piracy. “Now _that_ I would be interested in exploring. Do you have one you can lend?”

“Eh.” You grimaced. No way were you just going to hand over your VR console. It cost a damn lot of money and you didn't know where Connor was going to stick its wires. “You are more than welcome to come to mine and play with my console. It's a bit too chunky to bring into work for you.” 

“I see. Perhaps when our days off next align?” There was a brightness in his eyes.

You savoured the image of that precious twinkle. Connor was looking forward to something. Excited about trying something new that wasn't going to kill him and wasn't related to work or tangled in the complexity of emotions. 

Sure, he would soon be introduced to the frustration of obnoxious party members online and stupid controls that were either too sensitive or not sensitive enough; nevertheless, you felt like Connor would look past that and appreciate the experience. 

“Pardon?” You knocked yourself out of your daze when he waved a hand in front of you. 

“I said, perhaps when our days off next align, I could come and play video games with you?”

“Yes!” A bit too eager. Dial it down. “Yes.” Much better. “That sounds like a good idea. I haven't played anything in, oh I don't know. Years? I might be a bit rusty.” 

Connor's lips creased in the corners as a hidden smirk crept into existence. He was already certain he was going to obliterate you in any competitive matches. He wasn't going to hold back. _'That bastard!'_ You would start off with co-op games only. 

**11PM And all's well!**

For the first time in two years you felt sad that your patrol had come to an end. As the evening grew darker and colder, you and Connor had circled the route back to your car so you could drive to the slums in warmth and comfort. The rest of your shift was uneventful and even if you _had_ seen anything, it was too cold to stop the car and snoop around. 

Connor was abysmal at small talk, but you had found plenty of topics that got him engaged and encouraged him to think outside of the box. It had almost been like a date, just with the odd drunk here and there and the disapproving glares from androids who thought Connor was mad to work with you. No. Wait. That still felt like a date.

You pulled up outside of Hank Anderson's house where Connor was currently staying. A buzz came from your pocket and you checked your phone. It was a message from Chris.

“Ooh, Chris has asked if we want to go and get a drink with him and Kirsty? Some of the others are there too.”

Connor tapped his fingers against his thigh. He looked at the house. The lights were all off apart from the dim glimmer of a lamp in a bedroom. He could text Hank to let him know he would be late home. Or he could make sure Hank hadn't drank himself into a coma. Unfortunately, a sense of responsibility overpowered any other thought. Looking out for Hank came first; and it was a better option than watching colleagues vomit on the floor and talk utter tripe while under the influence. 

“I'll pass.” Connor smiled. “I would still like to have that gaming day with you in the future though, if that is alright?”

You put a hand on his arm. It was that touch people did because they just wanted to feel the other person. “Yeah, I'm looking forward to it.”

He looked down at your hand on him. The LED flickered yellow. His soft brown eyes met your admiring gaze. “I am too. I hope Captain Fowler puts us on patrol together again soon.” 

Your heart jumped into your throat. You swallowed, forcing it back down into your chest and denying the blush a chance to show itself on your cheeks. You squeezed his arm gently and let go. Connor was going to be on your mind all night now. “Night, Connor.”

“Goodnight, (y/n).”

Once he disappeared into the house, you threw your head back against the headrest and let out a deep breath.

He was handsome. You couldn't deny that. On a purely aesthetic level you were drawn to him. However, you had begun to scratch the surface of Connor and you were curious about him. The real him, not just what was encrypted before hand.

“I need a drink.” You mumbled to 'gushing over Connor' voice in your head. 

~*~

It was late. The bars weren't going to stay open for too much longer, but this particular one had a good few hours left in it yet. It wasn't one of Hank's regular grotty bars. No, this was one of the places the rest of the force tended to gather at. It was cosy, friendlier and most importantly, cleaner.

You spotted Chris in the corner with a few others. His phone was out and they were all making the obligatory cooing noises over the baby photos. You had made them too when you first saw them; though it hadn't made you feel broody like so many other women claimed it had done. 

The world was too fucked for you to feel maternal right now. Whether that would change, you didn't know.

Your legs froze before you reached the table. A man you recognised was sat with the others, completely disinterested in baby Damien, but he gave Chris a polite nod every now and then when he was spoken to. 

“Oh my God. Gavin?” You scoffed and pulled a chair to the gathering. “Fuck off! What are you doing here? I heard you'd ran off.” 

Gavin scowled. “Fuck off yourself. I didn't run away. I evacuated when I thought the fucking government was going to blow Detroit up.”

“Why did you come back?” 

He might have been drinking with your colleagues, but no-one had missed him. No-one even wanted him there. He was the outcast sat on the edge. Only Chris tried to reel Gavin into the conversation and Gavin himself wasn't being receptive to that.

“Money. My apartment. All my shit is here. My life is here. I hate these plastic pricks but its better than being a scrounging refugee or working back up from the bottom of my damn career again.” He was extremely bitter, but that was nothing new. 

“(y/n)! You made it.” Chris beamed. “No Connor?”

“Nah. He turned In for the night. Didn't want to be stuck being the designated driver.” 

Gavin turned his nose up at Connor's name. “You're best friends with that dick now?”

“Gavin, don't be such a bastard all the time.” You hissed.

Chris took a sip of his beer and gave Gavin a friendly smile. Chris was some sort of angel; possibly the only person in the world to have patience for Gavin and a hope that one day he'd stop being such a selfish arsehole. “Connor was assigned to her for patrol today. Just like Kirsty was with me.” 

Kirsty waved at Gavin and he grimaced. 

“Anyway, (y/n)!” Chris gestured to the bar. “What are you drinking? You've got some catching up to do.”

“Er,” You glanced at Gavin and gave Chris a bashful sneer. “I'll just stick to coke or something.”

“Jack and coke, got it-”

“No, no, I really shouldn't drink tonight. I've got work tomorrow and we're all working our asses off right now.” You insisted. 

Chris chuckled. “One drink won't hurt, but if you don't want to, you don't have to.”

“Well...” You chewed on your next words carefully. You shouldn't say them. You definitely shouldn't say them. “Alright, just one whiskey and coke.”

You said them. 

Now, drinking in general for you was not a problem. You enjoyed nights out as long as they were in moderation and with good company. Part of being a cop was drowning out the grim things you were constantly exposed to and blacking out so you could move on with your life and wallow in your gallows humour the next day. 

The problem tonight, however, was that Gavin Reed was there. An insufferable, selfish arsehole who always looked hotter with more alcohol. The same thing happened to him. The more he drank, the more irresistible you became. You could never have just **one** drink around him. It always evolved into four or more. Then when it was kicking out time, it always, _always_ became a bottle of something back at your place. 

That was just the tradition you had when drinking with Gavin.

Tonight was no exception. 

The door to your bedroom flew open as you and Gavin clumsily staggered into the room with urgency. Your lips were locked with his. He was unbuttoning your shirt. You were tugging off his hoodie. The kiss paused momentarily. A string of saliva connected you both until the hoodie broke it. His shirt came off quickly after.

You pressed your lips back against his and he slid your uniform shirt off. His cold hands slid down over the warmth of your sides. He followed the lines of your body and rested his hands on your hips. Your chest was pressed against his and his tongue caressed your own. 

His fingers gently traced over your stomach and he fumbled with your belt. 

“Fuck.” He whispered frustratedly into your mouth. 

You placed your hands on top of his and unbuckled the belt yourself. He unzipped your trousers and started to kiss your cheek while you focused on his belt next. He took the moment to fetch something from his wallet and toss it onto the bed, without moving his mouth away from yours. 

Once he felt his jeans loosen, he lifted you up; one hand on the underside of your thigh, the other on your back. It was just enough so he could lay you down on the bed. Gavin left a trail of kisses on your chest and stomach while his fingers curled around your trousers. He eagerly pulled them off and you closed your eyes with a content smile on your face. 

You heard the rustle and dull thud of his own jeans hitting the floor. He climbed back on top of you and started to kiss your neck. One of your hands rose to his messy hair, letting your fingers run through the dark locks. The other stroked his muscled back. 

Gavin reached a hand behind you and managed to undo the clasp of your bra with one hand. He leaned back to toss it aside and as soon as the cold air breathed over your nipples, you gripped Gavin's hair and forced his face back to yours.

You delicately bit his bottom lip and he gave out a gruff grunt. He pressed his bare chest against yours and your body arched up against him; desperate for his touch. One of Gavin's hands forced its way between the two of you and he cupped and squeezed your breast. His other arm effortlessly held him above you. 

His hips were between your legs. Your knickers were damp with anticipation and you felt his erection twitch every time it brushed against you. 

Gavin moved so his lips could tease the current free nipple. His breath trickled over your chest. His tongue flicked against the hard nipple. A gasp escaped you and you curled your fingers that were still in his hair. He licked the nipple slowly. Then sucked. Then bit. Then bit a bit harder. 

“A-ah~” 

“You like that, don't you bitch?”

“Don't call me a bitch, you fuc- A-ah~” Your cunt yearned for him as he switched to the other nipple, repeating the tried and tested formula. 

You licked your lips when you felt him kiss your stomach and pull down the last bit of fabric clinging to you. You heard them drop to the floor. You felt exposed and delightfully defenceless as Gavin stood at the end of the bed with a ravenous look in his eyes. 

He wanted you. 

You wanted him. 

He took off his boxers and you sat up at the sight of his cock, hard and glistening with precum. Gavin clambered back onto the bed and stole you into his arms. His tongue roamed your mouth and you returned the passion.

Sat on the bed, you let your hand ghost over his chest. You felt the hair, you felt his nipples and his muscles. You felt the various cuts and scars on his skin; little imperfections that in that moment made you pine for him all the more. 

You laid him down on his back. Soon, your knees were either side of his head and each breath you let out flowed over his cock. His hands grabbed your arse and gave you a dominating spank; attempting to tell you that even though you were on top, he was still in charge. 

You doubted that. Your tongue slowly licked from the base of his erection all the way to the tip. Your tongue glazed over the urethral opening and Gavin shuddered. Slowly, you began to take him into your mouth. The head touched your tonsils and you moved your tongue as much as you could around him wile he sat in your mouth.

Gavin groaned into your slit. His fingers spread you open so his tongue could caress the intricate folds. You whimpered and the noise caused his dick to twitch against your throat. It had been too long since you were touched like this. 

His finger probed your entrance while his tongue tantalised your clit with rough, wet flicks. Your body shivered, happy at the sensation that pulsed throughout you in waves. Your own head lifted up and down, struggling to take all of his manhood but you damn well were going to let it reach the recesses of your throat. You fondled the balls, not wanting to leave them out and a thrilling relief fluttered through his body.

Gavin pushed the finger further into you. He slowly took it out and replaced it with two. You were soaked down there and his spit on your clit only made it wetter. You relished in his actions as he sucked your cunt and thrust his fingers in and out of you, building up speed gradually until your were quivering and unable to suck his cock any more.

Your lips tingled and your moans slipped out around his thick erection. He groaned and bucked up into your mouth. He never lost focus on your pussy. 

The fast rhythm of his movements brought you to the edge. You felt like you were pushed against a rickety dam that would burst at any moment. 

“Ah~ Ah~” You tried your best to lick his shaft, but all your thoughts and energy had been redirected to making sure you didn't succumb to the euphoric sensation that desperately wanted to flood your system. 

Gavin pushed you off, noticing you were too close to climax. He scrambled for the thing he'd thrown on the bed earlier with one hand, while his other thumb encircled your clitoris. He found the condom and ripped it open with his teeth; which was insanely hot since those packets were tough. 

One hand sheathed his dick, the other continued to rub you. You bit your lip as he position himself back between your legs. Gavin was on top and he had a cocky smirk on his face. 

He was going to fuck you into oblivion. 

His cock sank into you slowly and your cunt accepted him readily. He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. The look on his face was gorgeous and your inner muscles tightened around him in response. You brought your legs up and he leaned over you, your noses touching. 

The thrusts started off cautiously and you practically purred at the feeling. He settled into a decent speed and your fingers once again combed through his hair. Your legs were in the air and every now and then you both kissed.

His member continuously came close to drawing out of you, only to get rammed back inside. You grew noisier and your sounds were like a song of encouragement to him. His breathing grew heavier and his scarred muscles were soon drenched in sweat. Your body heated up as the dam from earlier started to crumble. 

You felt his cock throb inside of you.

He was losing his concentration. 

Your nails dug into his back as your body arched into him. 

“A-AAAH~”

It felt like a firework was exploding in the depths of your cunt and the fire spread to every tip of your very being. 

The intensity grew with every desperate thrust he made. 

He pulsed inside of you and you tightened around him. 

“F-fuck-” He rasped out.

Then it happened.

At the exact moment he came, you shouted out

**“C-CONNOR~!!”**

Gavin splurged into the condom and collapsed on top of you with a fucking confused as heck grimace on his face. 

“ _What_. _The_. **Fuck**???”


	2. The Day After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as sexy as the last chapter; sorry ;P  
> A reminder for those who want to replace the blanks, I use (y/n) and (l/n) in this.

You had spent the morning nursing a hangover and scrubbing yourself clean. It was a blessing you were on the late shifts. Tragically, so was Detective Reed.

Usually this wasn’t a problem after a night of intoxicated, dirty sex. It was a no-strings attached deal. A guilty pleasure that had been born out of desperation since no-one had touched either of you like that in months. So you would both pour out your frustrations on each other and the result was often a euphoric wrestle that left you in a patch of sweat and cum, sated for the next week or two. 

He'd leave shortly after and reaffirm that you still revolted him and _this_ act of debauchery changed nothing. Then you'd distance yourselves from each other at work holding on to the usual disdain you harboured for Gavin. Things would go back to normal and you'd go out drinking again at some point for the cycle to repeat. 

However, the previous night hadn't ended in the traditional way. You had screamed Connor's name in ecstasy and Gavin took exception to that. He had gathered his clothes in a huff, stormed out with his belt still unbuckled and slammed the front door shut behind him calling you every name under the sun while you clung to your duvet and tried to process what had just happened. 

Now you were at work, staring into the blackness of your coffee before going on patrol with an android you didn't know because Connor was working lates with Hank.

Speaking of the raggedy man, Hank joined you in the break room and headed straight to the coffee machine. He gave you a nod of acknowledgement. 

“Morning, (y/n).”

“It's almost 3 in the afternoon.”

“Mm, could have fooled me. You look like you've just rolled out of bed. Or off Gavin.” 

You let out a heavy groan. “I had a late night, that's all.”

“Chris already told me Gavin went home with you last night. I know what that means. Didn't know the ass was back in town. That was one of the things I was looking forward to about the apocalypse; Detective fucking Reed fucking the fuck off.” Hank blew cool air into his beverage and leaned against the counter so he could speak to you face to face. 

“We were all looking forward to that.” You murmured.

Hank shook his head, wrinkling his nose. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“ _Him_.”

“Oh,” You rocked your cup from side to side, watching the liquid abyss slosh lazily. “I get suitably drunk and _apparently_ pretend he's someone else.” 

Hank pointed his chin at you and raised an eyebrow. “You know, when I first met you, you weren’t anything like this.”

You narrowed your eyes into a glare. 

The first time you stepped foot in the precinct was just over two years ago. Fresh from the academy, bright eyed and bushy tailed, you were determined to change the world. It had been a dream come true when Captain Fowler said your partner would be Lieutenant Hank Anderson. 

He was a man of legend. Often used in your classes as a goal to strive towards. Everything a model police officer should be. Hank didn't have a partner when you joined, because he was only on day two of coming back to the job. If you could get put with him, you were guaranteed to jump straight into detective work. A rookie would never have been so lucky. 

You had, of course, been briefed about Cole, and your heart ached for the grieving father. You knew you had to be tactful on how you approached Hank since he was sure to be a little unresponsive and closed off. That is what you predicted, anyway. Professionalism with plenty of personal space seemed like a good idea to start with. That was easier said than done. 

When you introduced yourself with a mix of nervousness and raw admiration for the Lieutenant, he immediately shot you down. He told you to leave him alone or get him a coffee. Eager to please, you went for the coffee, but when you skipped back to his desk, he wasn't there.

Lost and anxious, you instinctively sought out the glass office of Captain Fowler. There you saw Jeffery stood over his desk, palms flat against its top. Hank was opposite him, gesticulating wildly and opening his mouth wide. They were shouting at each other. 

You put the cup on Hank's desk. You suddenly felt uncomfortable in your own skin and like the uniform didn't fit properly. The corner of your eye caught a photo of a young Hank with his team; The Red Ice Task Force. That was the Hank Anderson you had read about, who you had wanted to be. 

When he burst out of the office, he never came back to you. He headed straight out of the station shouting 'Fuck the lot of you'.

After a breath to reset, Jeffery called you into the office. He apologised profusely. Hank had originally agreed to take on fresh-meat as a partner, but it turned out that he just wasn't ready to be the man he used to be. With that, you were given a new partner and your nails were pried out of the title 'detective'. 

Hank eventually apologised. He stressed his outburst was nothing to do with you. To say you were friends now would be an overstatement; but you worked together civilly, joked together heartily and drank together the only way coppers could drink-; unlimited refills and welcomed blackouts. 

Back in the present, your eyes had narrowed.

“People change. You should know that fact better than anyone, Detective Anderson.” 

Hank's mood darkened. He sipped his coffee and went to leave. Before he could, Connor bounded into the break room like an excited hound and nearly crashed into Hank.

“Watch it!” Hank roared and Connor was quick to steady his hand to save the precious coffee.

“Sorry, I just got a call in. A body has been found.” 

Suddenly alert, you straightened up in your seat. “A body?”

“Ah, Officer (l/n).”

“It's just (y/n).” You had told him this before.

“We actually need another officer to help secure the site, would you mind accompanying us? Officers Miller and PM700 aren't in yet and only Officer Chen is at the scene.”

Hank drank from his cup. “Just Tina? Where's Rob?”

“She didn't specify.” Connor kept his attention on you.

You pushed your cup to the side and gave Connor a wry smile. “Well, I'm not technically on duty right now, but I don't mind doing you a _favour_.” 

“A... _favour_?” Connor hesitated at your inflection. 

“Yeah. I'll do it because you asked me nicely, and when the time comes, you can do a favour for me.” You tapped your fingers against the table. A million thoughts entered your head on how he could repay the favour, but you kept them safely locked behind your innocent eyes and smile. You'd cash the favour in on the games night he had promised you.

Hank put a hand on Connor's shoulder. “Don't agree to that. It's like making a deal with the Devil.”

“Hank!” You complained. 

Connor was confused. Favours, deals and Devils. This had all got exceedingly complicated very quickly. All he asked you to do was help secure a site that was currently a free-for-all to the media and civilians alike. He opened his mouth, not sure what words were going to come out.

“I'm... not entirely sure what is going on, but time is of the essence here. I'd appreciate it if we could move out quickly.”

You sighed and stood up. There was a pining in your heart that had wanted to tease and flirt with Connor, but perhaps straight after a murder had been announced wasn't an appropriate time. “Alright, let's go.” You abandoned your coffee and Hank abandoned his.

When the three of you walked out into the bullpen, you were all in Gavin Reed's way. He dodged around Hank, shoulder barged past Connor then stepped in front of you.

The two of you were trapped in that awkward dance people always do on slim streets. You know the one. When you moved left, he moved to his right. When he moved to your right you moved to his left. The two of you halted the farce and you forced yourself to make eye contact. 

For a split second and not for a moment longer, you glimpsed into Gavin's shaded soul. There was a weakness in his eyes; hurt from a betrayal, even. You didn't have long to reflect on what you saw. He shoved your shoulders and practically threw you out of the way. 

Connor grabbed hold of your arm so you didn't fall into a desk. Frustrated Gavin rushed off without a word. You knew you weren't going to be able to avoid him; you had been worried about bumping into him even before getting to work. It had admittedly gone better than expected.

“Are you okay?” Connor still held your elbow and scanned you for any emotional distress. Nothing came up because all you felt was numbness. 

“Yeah, Gav's just a dick.” You said, though you knew he was fully justified in his resentfulness.

“He appears to be more of a 'dick' than usual today.” Connor encouraged you to keep walking. It was still important to get to the scene in good time.

Hank made a hearty sound. “(y/n) mustn't have been pulling her weight last night.”

It must be said; you look good in red. Which is lucky, because your face was a very hot shade of it then. 

Connor raised an eyebrow. “I don't think I understand.” You all filed into the elevator. “Officer (l/n) was on patrol with me until 11pm last night. She pulled her weight fine. Why would that annoy  
Gavin?”

“Just drop it.” You pleaded through gritted teeth. 

Hank debated whether to embarrass you further, but decided it wasn't worth it. Connor tried to ignite the topic one last time, but you insisted that the conversation stopped. 

~*~

Connor took his fingers away from his lips and analysed the blue blood. His mind was entirely focused on the task at hand. Chemical components broke down on his tongue and serial numbers whizzed through his wires with complete digital profiles. Hank had his arms folded across his chest and waited for the forensic results.

“Ooh, do you think if I ask nicely he'd _analyse_ me?”

Hank flinched at your sudden presence and scowled in distaste at your joke. “Not after Gavin's touched you.”

“Rude.” You stated flatly. 

“Why the fuck are you inside the house? You're supposed to be on guard out there.”

You placed your hands on you hips and watched Connor's work with genuine intrigue. You had only seen him in action a few times before. “I've put the yellow tape up. Tina's got guard duty covered now Robert's here. As soon as the media found out the 'body' was an android, they lost interest pretty quickly and started to disperse. Some are still lingering, waiting for the full story.”

Hank didn't seem impressed that you had wondered from your post, but hearing that Robert Lewis had arrived on the scene meant Hank didn't give a fuck what you did now. You should have scurried back to the precinct, but that would mean patrolling with the new android and you weren't in a hurry to do that.

The murder had happened in the living room of a house situated in a fairly nice residential area. The sofas had a floral design; the sort you'd expect to see in an old lady's house. The type of house that had a conservatory at the back. There were bare hooks on the walls where an abundance of family photos used to hang. A grandfather clock was tucked away in a corner. Doilies on the sideboard. 

This was definitely a grandma house, or at the very least, it used to be.

Now it was a grave. The male android's body was splayed across the coffee table. You couldn't see any thirium, but Connor clearly could.

Connor stood up and positioned himself to get a good look at the room. His eyes swept over the area as he watched crude phantoms relive the crime. “They were fighting over an object...” He replayed the projection in his head again. “... Here.” Connor knelt down and stuck his hand under the couch. 

He pulled out a memory stick. “No finger prints. Only android involvement.”

Hank plucked the USB drive out of Connor's fingers and turned it over in his hand. There were no logos or distinguishing features. It was just a black, tiny drive. “Why would they be fighting over this?”

“I'm not sure.” Connor brought a hand to his chin. “Perhaps I've reconstructed the scene wrong?”

“I doubt that.” Hank reassured. “Here, can you tap into it? See what files are on it?” He tossed it back to Connor who caught it expertly. 

The skin on his hands receded and he tried to access the data. Nothing happened. “No, I can't. Hank, could you perhaps stick this in one of my ports?” Connor enthusiastically offered the USB back to Hank who took a swift step away from the android.

“Heck no. I'm not sticking anything inside of you. Get (y/n) to do it!” 

Connor turned to you and before he had a chance to say anything, you _yoinked_ the drive off of him and started to trace your fingers over the back of his neck. There was something that excited you about being involved in the case. For minute or so, you could play detective. Pretend that Hank hadn't shrugged you off those couple of years ago. 

There was also something exciting about being able to probe Connor with a _thing_. You quickly shook that thought away. You were a professional officer. What ever biases you had for Connor needed to stay _out_ of the work place.

“Where is the port? It's somewhere back here, right?” You had seen androids get plugged up to computers before. Most devices were wireless these days, but not everything. All the wires appeared to go into the back of their neck, which is why you gently stroked the synthetic skin there, searching for a hole.

Connor remained silent. 

“Connor?” You prompted. 

“Hm? Oh, yes. I'll reveal it.” The skin peeled away and you saw a USB port. 

“Why didn't you respond just now?” You questioned as you slot it in.

“Your touch on my neck. It distracted me. Androids are built with functions that-Ah!” He gripped his head and folded forward. 

“Connor!” You immediately put an arm under his chest and a hand on his back. You steadied him as best you could, then saw his eyes widen. Pupils dilated. You immediately went to remove the memory drive but Connor grabbed your hand in a vice-like grip.

Hank called out to the android and waved his hand in front of him. He slapped his cheek a couple of times but there was no response. You rubbed his chest, not sure if it would do anything. The light on his temple was a violent red and circled frantically. 

“Uhh-” Connor let out a groan and stumbled backwards. His hands clutched you tightly and he collapsed on the sofa. You got dragged down next to him. He held on tight. You were his anchor to the real world right now. “I can't-” 

“It's alright,” Your hand on his chest moved to his cheek. You stroked his face gently with your thumb. “Try to focus.” You could hear a disconcerting whir. It was unknown to you what parts Connor had inside of him, but it sounded like a fan was working hard to stop him from overheating. 

As he pressed you close to him, you heard something else. His thirium pump had a sporadic, rapid beat. The regulator had lost control and went into overdrive. “Connor?” You whispered, looking into his panicked brown eyes. 

Hank had already darted out of the room to call for help. Tina and Robert dashed inside and phoned paramedics and android engineers. No-one really knew what to do with a malfunctioning android.

Connor's arm was around your shoulders and his other hand still held yours. He never met your gaze; he just stared out into a sea of invisible colours and geometric shapes. His regulator began to regain composure and the whirring had completely disappeared. You had never heard an android overheat before. 

“It... It feels good.” Connor mumbled through his fever dream. 

“What are you feeling, Connor?”

“Relaxed. Excited. I feel like electricity is running all over me.” He held you tighter. 

It had gotten too tight now, but you still managed to breathe so you let it slide. “Connor, this sounds like some sort of drug.” 

Hank snapped his head around at that. He rushed to the back of Connor and yanked the memory drive out of his neck while Connor was placated. The little black thing in the palm of his hand felt extraordinarily hot. It would be going straight to a lab. 

Connor never relinquished his bind on you and continued to explore the expansive oblivion in his mind. He didn't register anything else that happened that night; but he was fixated on the new sensation that pulsed around his body. It was _addictive_.

You didn't want to pry yourself away from him in case it gained a negative reaction from Connor. So you sat with him for as long as you could before he was taken away by Android-paramedics. He reached out for you, like your presence had comforted him greatly, but he stopped when Hank's hand slipped into his grasp. Hank shoved something into your palm and helped direct Connor outside.

“I'm here for you, kid.” Hank whispered. 

You watched as they slowly stepped into the back of an ambulance. You opened up your hand and stared at the little bagged up USB drive. 

“Well... shit.”


	3. Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously, something odd had happened to Connor from a memory drive he had tried to analyse. While he was rushed away, you had been left to return to the station with the offending article.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may re-write bits of the previous chapter because I'm not overly happy with it. I will also eventually get around to editing the first chapter, but for now, have the third one!  
> Scenes of a sexual nature at the end of this chapter.  
> A reminder for those who wish to replace the blanks; I use (Y/n) and (L/n) in this.

You were shooed out of the laboratory for being an absolute nuisance. 

You had buzzed around the forensic specialists with banal questions and an uncontested talent for _getting in the way_. So you had been tossed outside and told in very polite words to 'fuck off'. 

This left you restless. Connor was in a repair shop (or were they just called hospitals now?). Hank had gone with him. Tina and Robert were still on the scene assisting with procuring evidence and securing the site. Chris and Kirsty were on patrol, probably dealing with some drunkard pissing up a wall. The android you had _supposed_ to go on patrol with had been sent out with an academy intern instead; someone who definitely wasn't ready for the weird ways the streets worked but fuck it. Numbers were low and every pair of hands were needed.

Everyone else was busy, but _you_ had been turned into an overqualified delivery-girl. 

While the scientists pored over the USB drive, you knew you should report to the Captain for a new assignment. He must have read your mind because your phone beeped with a curt summons to his office. _Great._ You suspected a bollocking for running off to the crime scene with Connor and Hank, but hey, they needed an officer. It was part of the job to respond to call-outs. 

~*~

There was something strangely claustrophobic about a room composed of windows. Everyone else could see you but not a driblet of sound could be heard from inside. Even the air had a second-hand staleness to it. Yes, you were suffocating in that glass coffin of an office. How Jeffery coped you would never know, but he appeared right at home sat at his desk.

“You called for me, Captain?” 

He had stayed late again and wasn't thrilled about it.

“(L/n), you went out to play detective tonight, didn't you?” Jeffery was difficult to read. The only emotions you had ever seen on him were anger and disappointment. Wisecracks would occasionally make him smile, but there was never any joy or happiness there. Maybe he was a human who hadn't gone _deviant_ yet. 

“I responded to a request for aid from Hank and Connor. It sounded like a higher priority than-"

“I've not called you in to chastise you.” Jeffery waved a hand, dismissing whatever defence you were about to spew out. “You did the right thing. I've been thinking recently, since Ben has taken an early retirement,” There was a look on the Captain’s face that was a cross between thinking ‘lucky bastard' and ‘How dare he leave me with this shitshow’. “Our number of detectives has dwindled. Getting new recruits for patrol is easier than finding a competent detective, and I know you've been interested in the role since you started here. I was wondering-"

“Yes!” you slammed your hands down on his desk. Fire crackled in your eyes and your grin was confidently cocky. “If you're offering me the position, I will take it.”

“Hold your horses there, (L/n). This isn't a done and dusted deal.” Of course. There's always a catch. “I've been considering Miller for the position too.” Right. Chris was your friend. This complicated matters. “However, he's gelled exceptionally well with Kirsty, and I'm not convinced he'll stay in Detroit, what with his wife and Damian being so far away now. That's why I’m giving you a shot at this first; you're a bit more of a reliable constant. But you've got to throw yourself into this role. Show me you've got the mind and mettle of a detective.”

“Sir, I promise you won't be disappointed with me. I can definitely do this.”

You noticed Jeffery's vision flicker to the windows and he waved someone into the room.

“You wanted to see me, Capt'n?” Gavin spoke in a calm voice. A suck-up voice. 

“Perfect timing.” Jeffery stood up and opened his arms, gesturing to the two of you. “Meet your new partner, Detectives.” 

You and Gavin scowled at each other, wondering which one of you were going to kick up a fuss first. It was Gavin. It's always Gavin. “You can't be serious?!” He gave you a cursory glance and and pointed at you while he gave Jeffery a visage of bemused disbelief. “This clown? A Detective?! I didn't realise it was April 1st.” 

Jeffery never faltered. “It's November, Reed. As for detective-clowns, well,” He simply looked Gavin up and down. “I hired _you_.”

Gavin managed to scoff.

You cleared your throat. “In all due respect, Captain, I don't think Detective Reed and I would work well as a team. We, er, don't exactly get along.”

“No one gets along with Detective Reed, but he's damn well good at his job so you better learn how to.”

Gavin had a smug air about him from the backhanded compliment. However, he wasn't going to let this happen. The memory of last night still bubbled and boiled in the back of his mind. “I'm great at what I do, but I don’t think even _I'm_ good enough to carry her dead weight. The whore is-”

“Listen,” Captain Fowler had a face like thunder and wasn't about to indulge in a pointless back-and-forth of petty insults and excuses. “I know you two have some _personal_ history together, but that stops now. You two are partners in work and **nothing** more. Forget whatever has happened in the past and **do. Your. Job**.”

“Why does everyone seem to know that we've fucked?” You scrunched up your face. You had been learning that your occasional nights with Detective Reed was common knowledge but didn't know _how_ it had gotten so widespread. **You** posolutely never shouted from the rooftops about coitus with Gavin Reed.

Next to you, Gavin had folded his arms and turned his face to anything that wasn't you. His leg gyrated impatiently. Like an obvious naughty child trying not to get found out. Ah. He was the kiss and tell type. That certainly didn't surprise you but you never expected that he had _boasted_ about conquering you. At least his pride wouldn't let him tell anyone you had shouted out Connor's name, so that secret was safe. 

You rolled your eyes and centred on Jeffery.

“Fine.” You conceded. “I will _happily_ work with Detective Reed.” At the end of the day, you wanted this job.

Gavin flinched and balled his hands into fists. He stepped close to you, utilising his extra bit of height to try and intimidate you.

“Fuck. You.” He turned to Captain Fowler. “I'm not doing it.”

Jeffery straightened his back and empowered his voice with authority. “If you value your job, you will. We don't have the numbers to fuck about, Reed. I need officers I can trust to do the job, and regardless of what you think, (L/n) is more than capable of being a detective.”

Gavin flipped you the bird then spread his arms at Jeffery, daring him to try it. “I'm not doing it Capt'n. I'll work solo, thanks.” Walking backwards, so he could see the dumb looks on your faces, he left the office.

Captain Fowler rubbed the creases on his forehead. The Lieutenant and Reed were possibly the biggest pains in the arse out of the entire precinct, with the exception of the lethargic Night Shift Captain who made handovers sloppy and pointless. Who still hadn't showed his crusty face for work yet.

You rocked on your heels, hands clasped behind your back. “You know, you could just fire Reed and promote both Chris _and_ me.”

“I'm not going to fire Reed. As tempting as it is. There's a reason he's a detective.” The Captain began to gather his things, he missed his home and family. He was beyond exhausted and any more overtime might have genuinely killed him. “Reed will come around tomorrow. He'll catch me on my own and grovel and apologise until I tell him to forget about it and get on with his damn job.”

“Gavin grovelling? Now that's a sight I'd like to see.” You chuckled to yourself and checked the time. It was nearing 10pm, still not the end of your shift. “Sir? What should I do with the next hour or so?”

Jeffery tossed his car keys up and down in his hand, looking like an old fashioned detective in his long coat and trilby. “Whatever you want, (L/n). It's a bit too late to start anything new so just go home or arrange your desk. Finish any reports that need doing.” He started towards the door then paused and pointed at you. “Actually, I have the address Connor was taken to, to figure out what the hell happened to him. Knowing Hank, he's fed himself on alcohol and worry. Would you mind stopping by with something for him to eat and check on Connor for me?”

Wonderful. You were back to being a delivery-girl. You put your hands behind your back and clicked your heels together. “Of course, Captain.” 

“Thanks. Now come on, I want to go home.” 

~*~

The storefront of the CyberLife building had been manipulated into a sterile reception and waiting area. It was too small to be classed as a hospital. It was more akin to a General Practice doctor's surgery, but with an overnight option. Anything that had CyberLife's name on it had been scratched out or removed. 

‘Big sale!!!’ posters were replaced with educational ones; how to maintain a healthy system and Regular Thirium flow as well as how to catch early stage errors before they became too dangerous. 

The receptionist looked up from her magazine-tablet and raised an eyebrow at your uniform and badge. You had no idea if she was human or android and it would be too rude to ask. 

“Hello, how can I help you, Officer?” She was polite enough but eyed the brown bag of greasy takeaway in your hand. At any moment the grease could eat away at the bag and burger and fries would litter the pristine floor. She was not in the mood to deal with that mess.

“Um, I believe a couple of my colleagues are here? Lieutenant Anderson and the patient was Detective Connor.”

“We don't usually allow visitors at this time of night.”

“It's for the case. I'm not a visitor.” That sounded better than _‘I’m working as delivery-girl tonight'_.

“And the food? You can't take that out back with you.” 

“Captain Fowler instructed me to bring something for the Lieutenant. Is there nowhere he can eat it?” 

The receptionist tapped the end of her pen against her chin. “He can eat it in here, I guess. It's been a slow night. Any mess and he has to clear it up himself.” 

“I'm sure he will, Ma'am.” You grabbed a couple or paper towels from the dispenser on the wall and laid them on the table so the artery-clogging gruel wouldn't leave a yellow wet patch behind. Following the receptionist's directions, you went through the large double doors.

The back of the store, er, doctor's surgery, was a clinical sci-fi white and blue. Computers were set up everywhere and wires were coiled like snakes across most of the floor. There were a few makeshift consultation rooms separated off by curtains. With a bit more time, they could employ the area as a real surgery.

It made sense to turn the CyberLife's stores into medical centres. All the technology and parts to repair androids were there and restocking wouldn't be a problem any more thanks to Markus' smooth talking and powerful demonstrations. 

Connor and Hank weren't hard to find. They were in the first cubicle, Connor groaning and caressing his LED. He was sat on the edge of the bed, too restless to lie down. Hank sat in a chair with a loud aura of grumpiness. 

“Hank, Connor?” You rapped lightly on the plastic curtain. “Fowler told me to bring some food for you, Hank. Receptionist said you can eat it out there but not in here.”

“I'm not hungry.” 

“Hank,” Connor was responding and speaking normally. That was a great sign. “You should eat. I've already told you that you needn't wait for me-"

“Shut your mouth, Connor. I'm not leaving until we find out if you're infected with a virus or whatever.”

Connor was about to argue back but instead softened his furrowed brow and gave Hank the puppy dog eyes. “Then, would you at least go and eat? Officer (L/n) did go out of her way to bring you food.”

Hank wrinkled his snout at Connor's expression. There was no way he could say no to that face. There was no way anyone could say no to those kind and soft features. A warm shiver went up your body just looking at him. Hank was defeated. “Okay kid, I’ll go and pretend to eat some food if it'll make you feel better.” He clicked his fingers at you then gestured to his chair. “Keep an eye on him, will ya?”

You didn't need to be asked twice. As soon as Hank stood up, you jumped into the warm seat. Hank gave you a funny look but you ignored it. “The food is out there. Receptionist is keeping an eye on it.”

“Joy.” He huffed off. 

Hank made sure to close the curtains around you and Connor. Then there was silence. Uncomfortable silence. 

“Soooooo...”

Now what? You were alone together. Sort of. What was the protocol for visiting someone in hospital? He was looking at you expectantly, assuming you would take the lead on all this visitor malarkey.

“How are you feeling?” That sounded like a good start. 

“Fine. Thank you.”

“Oh. Good.” You drummed your fingers against your thigh. “So, do they know what happened with the memory drive?”

“I appeared to have run a programme that my systems aren't familiar with. I was supposed to analyse the properties of what was on the memory drive first, but I was... distracted... and initiated the programme without thinking. Luckily, there has been no lasting effects so far. We're waiting on the last test result.” His LED was blue; quite confident that everything would be fine. “Have the lab at the station discovered anything?” 

“Not yet, no.” You patted your pocket. “I’ll get a call when they do.” 

Connor relaxed. “I see. Nothing I can do aside from _wait_.” He sounded crabby. “How has the night been treating you, (Y/n)?” 

It felt so nice when he used your first name. Like he was letting the wall of professionalism crumble and getting closer to you. If he could use it all the time, you'd be ecstatic. Hm, what had he just asked you? 

“Oh!” You snapped out of your fantasies. “It's been a bit of a roller-coaster actually. Fowler is considering me for a detective position.”

“That's great!” Connor enthused. 

“But I've been given Gavin as my partner.”

Connor sucked in through his teeth and made a pained “Ooooo” sound. 

You laughed and agreed with the reaction. “See what I mean? A roller-coaster.”

“I can certainly see what you mean.” Connor smiled. “I suppose if anyone is going to be Detective Reed’s partner, then you are the best candidate.”

Sometimes people say things that are so profound that you find yourself choking on the very oxygen that is meant to fuel your lungs. This was one of those 'sometimes'. “Ex-cuse me?” you choked out.

“Hank was telling me about how you are the closest thing to a ‘friend’ Reed has.”

“What else did he tell you?” Came your venom slathered words. You didn't want to have to kill Hank tonight, but...

“Only that you are a _consistency_ for Reed. He told me nothing more than that.”

You relaxed in your chair.

“But I can deduce what that means.”

And you were anxiously scrunched forward again. “Gav has friends.” You decided to skirt around the fact that you had a tradition of drunk-fucking Gavin. That wasn't a topic you wanted to discuss with the android. “Tina and Chris are his friends. Either of them would work well with him. Better than I could, actually.”

“From what I've observed, Officer Chen shows _tolerance_ and not _fondness_ towards Reed. Officer Miller, is a kind soul who would perhaps class himself as a 'friend' out of obligation. However, he has a lot going on in his mind. Subjecting him to Reed's torments seems... cruel.” 

“Oh, but you’re saying it's fine for _me_ to get tormented?” You laughed a little and Connor, to your surprise, chuckled as well.

“That's not what I'm saying at all. You're robust. One of the only people who can probably get through to him as well. You have that _spark_ about you.” Connor reached out and tilted your chin up so he could study your eyes further. It was purely in the name of social-science, but you blushed at the gentle touch anyway.

“Spark? Isn't that what you androids do when you're faulty? Ah-ha.” Sure. Ruin the moment with bad jokes. You closed your eyes and sucked in your bottom lip; embarrassed by yourself. “Sorry, ignore me. What were you saying?”

When your eyelids fluttered open again, Connor was still gazing at you. Confused by his readings of heat on your cheeks; his hand dropped away from your face. He realised that there were no words capable of describing what he saw in you. He concluded that it must have been a very human thing that he would perhaps never comprehend and that, honestly, saddened him.

“I can't explain it, but I think this partnership will benefit Reed because of the type of person you are.”

Yes. The type of person to shout out Connor's name during inebriated sex. That was _exactly_ what Gavin needed. Although, perhaps it would humble him a little. That wouldn't hurt. “And what do you think I’ll get out of it?”

Connor frowned. The connection between your eyes broke. “I suppose, you get the detective position.” That sounded oddly ominous. What else was behind those words? 

“Well that sounds like a cop-out!” You complained. 

“I suppose it does.” He grinned. “When is your next day off?”

That was not a question you had anticipated. “Oh? Er, I guess that will change now that I'm a wannabe detective.”

“Ah, that does complicate your hours quite a bit. I only asked because I'm still very keen in experiencing video games with you.” 

You wondered if androids had heightened auditory sensors. They do. Your heart was beating so loudly that you were frightened you may deafen the poor sod. He had remembered your, for lack of a better word, 'date'. He said he was 'keen'. How was it that you could shag a man like Gavin and become a dirty whore, yet melt away at the pure innocence and sweetness of Connor and just want to envelope him in cuddles? 

“I'll definitely make time for that. I'd love to have you over for a night. Er, day.”

“I don't mind either day or night. We'll work with what time we have.” Connor was optimistic. 

You patted his leg, because you were desperate to touch him, but before you could continue the conversation, your phone rang. “Ah, it's the lab!” You stood up and took the call. 

After a few 'uh-huh's and 'yeah, okay's and one solemn 'thank you, goodbye' you let out a sigh and hung up. “Sorry, Connor. Their tests came back inconclusive. They're calling it a night and said they will try again tomorrow.”

Connor was displeased with that outcome and the yellow circle on is temple made that obvious. “That **is** a shame. I was hoping I would have something to work with tonight. I've gone over all the other evidence at the scene over and over, but there are key things missing.” 

“Sorry, Connor." You repeated. "I wish there was more I could do.” Hank would want to know the prognosis too, which meant it was time to wrap the visit up. 

“Please don't apologise. You have done a lot more than you realise for me tonight. I heard I had almost hugged you to death. For that, I am truly sorry.” With the pitifulness in his eyes, you could tell his apology was sincere. 

“Never apologise for hugging me, Connor.” You snickered. “But yeah, you might have left a couple of bruises on me.” 

“Ah-” The worry on his face was priceless. 

“Relax, relax! I'm exaggerating!” At least, you thought you were. Now that you mused over it, you were pretty sore where his arms had wrapped around you and the hand he had almost crushed was changing colour. 

“If there is anything I can do to repay you-” 

Those were dangerous words. “You already owe me a favour. I'll just make sure it's a _big_ favour.” You winked at him.

Before you could start to flirt, Hank entered the cubicle. “Alright you two, break it up.”

~*~

All you could think about on your way home was Connor and that damn handsome mug of his. The way he had tilted your head and gazed into your eyes; penetrating your very soul. It had been a very tender moment for you. 

It legitimately had been a roller-coaster of a night: Connor spazzing out, being seconded into the detective position, having Gavin be your partner, Connor recovering from his acid trip and saying some flattering things about you. A roller-coaster indeed.

With most of the craziness of the day behind you, you collapsed onto your bed and ignored the fact the sheets hadn't been changed yet.

Gavin's scent still clung to them. When you closed your eyes, the illusion of Gavin's hands roaming your body took hold of you. Your chest rose and fell with each deep-breath. The memory in your head was replaced with the fantasy that it had been Connor touching you. 

You nibbled your bottom lip. Would it hurt if you were to... To hell with it. You might as well do it. 

You slipped out of your uniform and buried yourself under the Gavin-scented covers. You spread your legs, closed your eyes and pictured Connor. Your hand timidly ventured down your stomach and paused on your pubic bone. Was it really right to do this while imagining a co-worker? 

Your fingers believed so. You hadn't even noticed that they had began to rub themselves over your entrance. A sigh escaped your lips and you gave in to your reverie. Your hands were Connor's now. He was the one who gingerly grazed his thumb over your clit; nervous and worried that he didn't know how to please you. 

When he ran a finger between your moist lips, a moan escaped your other ones. He found himself growing more confident after producing such a motivational noise. His thumb drew circles around your clit while a finger teased your slit. Connor didn't want to rush it, but he was eager to hear another sound. 

His finger pushed into you. You purred in satisfaction but you wanted more. He read that easily and another finger carefully penetrated you alongside the other. His thumb continued to work its magic; masterful movements stimulated you as though he had been pleasing you all his life.

Connor knew exactly what to do to make you wet. 

The thought of him fingering you, with his shirt sleeves rolled up and his tie dangling over your torso got you soaked within seconds. 

Connor's knuckles pressed against your pussy. The movements built up slowly. In and out. The thumb never neglected the clitoris either. His fingers wriggled inside of you, tickling your g-spot with a honed finesse. You arched your back, eager for more of him to get into you. 

It was so hot in your cunt. Fingers slipped around and you thrust yourself against the imaginary Connor. God you wished he was there, but this would have to do. 

“Hnnn~” You moaned to yourself as a gushing climax neared. 

You didn't want to finish. You wanted to hold on to that sexy image of Connor, bending down to kiss your mouth. You wanted his lips to touch yours; the key to unlock the phenomenal orgasm that had stacked up in the pit of your cervix. 

Then, as the fictional Connor was about to kiss you, his fingers still caressing your inner walls with speed and power, something changed. 

With a blink of your mind's eye, Connor had disappeared and it was the rugged, thick fingers of Gavin inside of you and his coarse lips against yours. 

You orgasmed to the thought of Gavin. Your very own fingers and mind had betrayed you; the bastards. You whimpered in pure delight anyway; because an orgasm was an orgasm and you weren't going to let go of the almighty feeling just because Gavin Fucking Reed ruined it. 

The fingers kept thrusting, bending inside of you. The thumb flicked and each flick kicked a rush of exhilaration throughout your entire being. You forced yourself to keep going, even when your legs started to shake and your head felt like it was going to explode. It felt too good to let it stop!

Not yet.

NOT. YET.

All good things must come to an end, and while you wanted to engulf your hand at that point, your body could take no more of the intensity. Your arm jerked away from your sex and you gasped out in a mix of relief and ecstasy. 

You panted on your bed. Mindlessly, you wiped your juices on the sheets and scowled. 

“Gavin, you wanker. What the fuck was that about!?”

All you could do was bury your head in your pillow. What was wrong with you?


	4. Gavin

What you thought your first day of being seconded into the Detective position would be;

Deerstalker hats, gentleman pipes, barrels of witty banter and one gruesome murder scene. 

What your first day had really been so far;

Five cups of undrunk coffee, two doughnuts (with sprinkles), one perfectly organised desk and a shit-tonne of e-mails from your partner linking to porn sites.

Only Detective Gavin Reed would be able to find pornography that worked on the DPD's computers.

Aside from that, he had barely acknowledged you. You must have missed him grovelling to Jeffery, but he was at work and for the most part, simply ignored you rather than the usual antagonising. That would have been nice if it were not for the admin portion of the job. You had tried to get Gavin to fill you in on what needed to be done, but each inquiry was answered with a middle finger and a muffled 'Swivel'.

When Captain Fowler demanded both you and Gavin come to his office _immediately_ , you prepared yourself to blame everything on Gavin. The fact you hadn't gotten any work done, global warming, how some puppies die without ever being loved; it was all Gavin Reed's fault.

What met you inside the glass office was a perturbed Jeffery and a thin file on his desk. Another night of staying late because there was no one to hand over to. There was no room for niceties, he got straight down to business.

“This is your first case and I swear to God, if you don't produce results on this then (L/n), you won't get the detective position and Reed, you'll be stuck on patrol for months with Miller and Kirsty taking your cases instead.” 

You were quiet as you collected the file. Gavin couldn't help but open his mouth. “Don't worry Capt'n. I'll get this solved even with (Y/n) dragging me down.”

“Get out of here.” Jeffery commanded. 

Working with Gavin wouldn't be the end of the world. No, that had already come with the androids. Life as humans knew it was drastically changing, whether they wanted it to or not. It was time to adapt and survive, and while you were quite good at that (normally), Gavin seemed to be struggling.

You subconsciously followed Gavin as you thumbed through the pages of the case. The _page_ of the case. It was a standard burglary, probably performed by an android because it was so cleanly executed. No signs of forced entry and the alarm system had possibly been hacked. Everything that could be flogged had been nicked. Thousands of dollars in the form of furniture and ornaments had been destroyed.

You closed the file and placed it on your lap. _Wait_. When had you climbed into the passenger seat of Gavin's car?

It was a sad, beaten up vehicle. Crumbs decorated the abused dashboard and ancient dried-out drips of soda funked around the cupholder. Burger wrappers and polyester cups pooled around your feet. If you wriggled a toe, something might have clawed its way out of the detritus to steal your shoe.

The engine stirred from its slumber. Gavin flicked the screen of his GPS. “Enter the address, dipshit.”

Before you discussed this case with Gavin or did a single thing he rudely ordered you to, you had to address the enormous elephant in the car. 

“I'm sorry.” You were barely audible as you tapped in the zip code to the victim's house. “I was drunk and had been patrolling with Connor _all_ evening. His name was on my mind, but I- I wasn't... heh.” You shook your head. “I wasn't thinking of him. I wasn't even thinking about **you**. I was just enjoying myself.” 

“I really don’t give a fuck any more.” Gavin stated, but then went on to mumble something that you assumed was meant to be an inner thought. “Not the first time it's happened to me.”

“Oh.”

“Brief me on the file, would ya?” 

“Right.” 

You controlled the spark of sympathy you had for Gavin and looked at the one page once again. 

“The homeowner's name is Charlie Price. The burglary happened at some point between 7pm and 9pm tonight while Mr Price was out for a meal with friends. He claims that there are no signs of forced entry and his alarm never alerted the authorities. Upon closer inspection, the alarm might have been hacked wirelessly. Money, jewellery, heirlooms, laptop, anything that wasn't nailed down and worth a dollar was stolen. They left nothing unturned; the place is a mess.” 

You rubbed the back of your neck. “This has happened pretty early in the night. It must have been planned out, right? The perps must have known when Mr Price was going to be out and used that opportunity. So maybe it was co-conspired by someone he knows. There's apparently no witnesses as most people on his street fucked off during the uprising and haven't returned.”

“Pussies.” Gavin added.

“But, I don't get it.” You furrowed your brow.

“That's because you're a shit detective. None of the other houses were targets even though they're empty and ripe for the pickin'. What does that tell ya?” Gavin was a pretty reckless driver and whenever he propelled round a corner you clung to the ceiling handle for dear life. He enjoyed the streets being so empty. The roads were _his_ and he liked that domination.

“Er,” You recovered yourself from the right turn. “That this was revenge?”

“Tsk.” Gavin gave you a sideways glare. “If someone wanted revenge they would've bashed in his kneecaps. They had a clean entry, why would they trash the house?”

“Well then, it could be one of two things.” You stroked an imaginary beard as your thoughts strung theories together. “It could be insurance fraud. Mr Price might be low on cash and decided to try and claim insurance while his items are stashed away safely somewhere else. If that is the case, I'm not sure why he'd cover up signs of a break-in since that would make a claim go through easier. The other idea,”

You wavered. The concern that the other idea was a bit too far-fetched held on to your tongue. You managed to voice it anyway. “Is that the thieves were actually looking for something specific.” 

Gavin started to smack the steering wheel in celebration. “Ding, ding, ding! Give the bitch a bone! Nice work, (Y/n). Fifty bucks says that when we get there it's going to look like someone was searching for something. Drugs, probably.”

You ignored how he mocked you. You were better than his childish behaviour. “Why would he call the police if he had drugs that were stolen?”

Gavin shrugged. “Maybe he cares more about the other stuff they took than his stash. If we find the other crap and drugs were mixed in with the lot, we don't have a reason to charge him for possession because nothing says they were his.”

There was a bright smirk on Gavin's face. He was a smug bastard but right there, with his eyes fixed on the road and his head in the game, he glowed. When Captain Fowler had commented that Gavin was good at his job, you hadn't believed it. Everyone told you that Gavin had reached his position by stepping on toes and trampling others. He certainly pissed people off, but he really was _good_ at his job and somewhere along the lines, people had forgotten that because he was an arsehole. 

His vision swapped to you. “What the fuck are you staring at?”

You blinked. “Hm?” Your eyes had lingered on him a bit too long.

Gavin decided it would be hilarious to make a very sharp left-hand turn to snap you out of your daydream. Your body heaved to the side. One hand shot back up to the ceiling handle and your other gripped at Gavin's thigh to steady yourself. 

Then Gavin nearly crashed. 

The tires screeched as his car struggled to a stop, mounted over a kerb. His knuckles were white as he squeezed the steering wheel. His breath was slow and controlled but every muscle in his body was tense. All he could feel was the warmth of your hand on his leg.

You slapped his arm harshly. “What the fuck was that?!” As soon as your hand moved to hit him, the usual Gavin returned.

“Scare ya?” He wore the cockiest of grins. He revved the engine, reversed off the pavement and sped off down the road like nothing had happened. 

“You. Are. An. Ass.” 

Almost crashing wasn't the worst part. The file had slipped off your thighs and had dove into the squalid swamp of the foot-well. Your face twisted grotesquely as your hand fished around for it. You brushed over numerous questionable fuzzy items that might have once been food but were now definitely civilizations for bacteria. 

Once you retrieved the case file, you dusted it off with your hand. “Look, if we're going to be partners you've got to clear out your car.”

“Good idea. That can be your job when we get to the victim's place. I'll question the prick and you can be a good little maid and tidy up for me. Thanks, sweetheart.” 

“Do you get off on being such a twat-waffle to everyone?”

“ _'twat-waffle'_? I _like_ that.” He parked up on a dead street. It was deserted aside from a few lights here and there. It was no wonder there had been no witnesses. 

Charlie Price's house was two stories high and one of the smaller houses on the street. People who lived on this road had _money_. Enough money to escape the android uprise and not have to concern themselves with the inconvenience of coming back. The fact that thieves hit one of the few houses still occupied was extremely suspicious.

Gavin whistled in appreciation of the estate. “Wonder what he does for a living?”

“We'll have to ask him that while we take his statement.” You reached out to knock the door but to assert dominance, Gavin beat you to it. 

_Ratta-tat-tat_

Charlie opened the door forthwith. He had been waiting for you impatiently, wearing the carpet thin as he paced the entrance hall. 

He was a skinny man, skeletal even. Late forties. Wisps of red hair crowned his bald head and his high cheekbones exaggerated his sunken cheeks and bulging brown eyes. He wasn't an attractive man, but he held himself with a certain poise that drew a person in long enough to say ‘yes' to a round of drinks. 

He smiled at the two of you.

Gavin held up his badge. “Evening, Mr Price, I take it? I’m Detective Reed and this is Officer (L/n).” He was shockingly professional. At first. He clipped the badge back onto his belt. “May we come in and ask you a few questions? Take a look around?”

“Of course,” Charlie cooed. “Thank you so much for making time for this tonight. It's certainly shaken me.”

Behind his polite and polished persona, it was easy to tell that Charlie was on edge. 

When you entered the living room, everything had been flipped upside down but Gavin had been right. Whoever had ransacked the house left tell-tale signs that they had been searching for something specific, not usually found on a mantelpiece or in a jewellery box. Cushions had been ripped open. A box of detergent emptied onto the floor. Dirty clothes tossed to the four corners and a bookshelf laid pitifully on the floor with ripped pages and expensive tomes littered around it. Pictures had been removed from walls and every nook and cranny had been probed. 

While you soaked in all these minute details and dusted for prints with gloved hands, you kept an ear tuned to Gavin's questioning.

“Can you tell me from the top what happened? Where did you go, who were you with, etcetera.”

“Well, around 6.30pm I left the house to go to the Italian restaurant Giovanni's.” Gavin raised a brow at that but said nothing. “I returned to the house just before 9PM, I don't like late nights.”

“Go to Giovanni’s on your own?”

“No, I met with some friends-”

“Names?”

Charlie cleared his throat. “Paula Wright, Jamal Darr and Antony Decann.”

You were triggered by that last name. Your heart was on the brink of palpitations. Your lips grew dry and your legs weakened. ‘Antony Decann' was too close to ‘Antony Deckart'. That was not something you wanted to relieve. Not now. Not ever. You took a deep breath, remembering your belligerent therapist and pushed away the traumatic distractions. You were working, you didn't have time to grieve or feel pathetic. It had been months since he died. You had to move on.

Gavin jotted down the three contact details. “We've got a list of things you've reported as stolen, but is there anything you missed off the list?”

“No, no. Everything that’s gone has been reported-"

“Got any idea why they picked _your_ house out of all the empty ones?”

“No. No I don't.” Charlie seemed to get agitated with the way Gavin constantly cut him off

“Got any enemies?”

“What man doesn't?”

Gavin snorted in amusement. “You got me there, but that doesn't help with the investigation.” He tapped his stylus against the tablet repeatedly. 

The constant tip-tap tip-tap crawled under Charlie's skin. “No enemies that I can think of who would do _this_.”

The tapping stopped. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

“I suspect android involvement. My alarm was hacked and I think the locks were hacked as well.”

“Oh yeah, you have one of those fancy-pants biometric scanner locks, don't ya?” Used a lot in commercial buildings but you had to be a pompous rich-boy with small-dick insecurities to have one installed on a residential home. “Say, what do you do for a living?”

“I'm an accountant. Most of my clientele lived around here, actually. Quite a few business owners.” Charlie neatened his clothes and straightened his back. He took pride in what he did.

Gavin nodded understandingly. “Must have been getting dry before the uprising, eh? Accounts must be child’s play for androids to sort out?”

“Detective, would you mind cutting out the games and just get to what you are inferring, please.”

Gavin’s face creased with dissatisfaction. The games were the best part; getting into someone's head, making them squirm and weak beneath his gaze. He stepped close to Charlie, who was taller than Gavin but a fraction of his width. “Is this insurance fraud because androids were taking your job?”

“Certainly not.” 

Gavin continued to intrude Charlie's space for a while longer before baring his teeth like an animal and swaggering away. “Find anything, (Y/n)?”

“They were definitely looking for something.” You rose from a squat and grinned at Charlie, not unkindly. “Do you have something anyone would have taken particular interest in, Mr Price?”

Charlie was a lot more fond of you and you had barely spoken to him. He was quick to say “Sensitive documents on my clientele. Bank details, deed details, company details, that sort of thing.”

“Blackmail?” You sweetly offered. 

“Aha,” Charlie rubbed the lower part of his face. “I may have possessed some things that people wouldn't have wanted exposed, but I would never dream of using anything as blackmail. The intruders must have been looking for that.” He concluded. 

“Are those _sensitive_ items now missing?”

“... Yes.” 

You and Gavin shared a look. It had taken a moment for Charlie to decide that the blackmail was missing. Gavin kicked off the wall he leant against. “I think we better take a look upstairs. Hey, Price, make us a coffee would ya? The real stuff, not that instant crap.” 

Charlie grumbled but didn't refuse. He pottered off into the kitchen. It was vital to keep you both on his side before you dug around too much. Fulfilling Gavin's mundane demands was a way to do that.

Once upstairs, Gavin dictated you should start with the bedroom. Not because he expected to find anything in there, he just wanted a good snoop around the victim's most personal items. Hence the demand for real coffee, it gave you more time to ‘inspect'. 

Just as you thought, Gavin took a dive into the drawers that looked most intriguing. You left him to his pervasive entertainment and began to examine the large wardrobe in the corner by the window. It had been chipped, scratched and moved out of place. Only an android would have the strength to move such a chunk of furniture. 

“Hahaha! I knew it. This guy’s a fucking pervert!” When you glanced at Gavin, he held in his gloved hand a sparkling pink and purple strap-on. 

“Oh.”

“Did you see how scrawny the lanky shit was? Any girl pegging him is gonna snap him in half!” Gavin chucked the toy at you.

“Gavin, you prick!” You batted the strap-on away and it fell to the floor with an impressive _thunk_. Determined not to get sidetracked, you tried to refocus on the wardrobe and why it felt so unsteady.

“Hey, (Y/n). What do you make of this?” 

On the off chance Gavin had found something relevant, you gave him your attention.

Fool.

Wibbling in his hand was a multi-jointed dildo with metal plug prongs at the base. The shaft was made from the same plastic that androids were and it looked to be a very advanced masterpiece of penis-replica technology. 

“Gavin, would you-aha, would you quit- hahaha.” You couldn't help it. It was the way it wobbled in his fist and the wiggling of Gavin's eyebrows that made you giggle like a schoolgirl. “Put it back Gavin! For God’s sake!”

“Hold on, I think it could be evidence.” He trotted over to your corner and you quickly grew aware that there was nowhere for you to run. “Can you give it a sniff-" He thrust it in front of your face. 

You pulled back and struck it out of his hand before it got too close. “Urgh! What is wrong with you?! That's disgusting! Feeling inadequate so you need to take it out on me?”

“Fuck off. You see the size of that thing?!” You both stared at the android attachment that rolled from side to side on the floor. “That's too much! That'd split you in half!”

Your face flushed red at the very thought of the thing trying to squeeze inside of you. Not to mention all the added features it would have. The variety of settings...

Gavin caught the sight of your thighs pushing together. “Shit. That's actually turning you on, isn’t it?” His mocking cackle faded slightly. “Imagining Connor with one of those?”

“No!” But now you are. “I am _trying_ to do my job!” But the image or Connor between your legs had worked its way into your head. 

“He'd probably need one of those. I doubt plastic detectives were made with cocks.” The bitterness was strong. He had managed to ruin his own mood by thinking about Connor.

“Gav, we're at work. Can't this wait until later?” You didn't want an argument. Not after things had been going so _well_. Like nothing had happened in the past. Just two colleagues working in your own weird way.

“What do you reckon fucking a plastic is like, eh? Cold? Lifeless?” Gavin had gotten close to you and your back was pressed against the warm-orange wall. You didn't like the way his palm rested on the wall beside your head. You felt locked in and his face was too close; close enough to bite your nose off in anger. 

“Would it be better without all the sweat? Skin against skin? Heavy breathing in your ear?” Gavin's mood had started to shift once again. Fragmented memories of touching each other swamped the forefront of your minds. “You really think that dick-less thing would be better than me?”

The ticking of the world was drowned out by the thump of your heartbeat in your ears. Truth be told, you couldn't tell if Gavin was going to hurt you or kiss you, and the way the lights fought with the shadows in his eyes, Gavin wasn't sure what he wanted to do either. 

“Ahem,” came the very loud and frustrated throat-clear of Charlie Price. “Your _coffee_ Officers.” He growled, seeing his personal artefacts at your feet. He put the tray of fresh pressed coffee on a chest of drawers that he been rifled through. “How is your investigation going?”

There was a breath of fresh air when Gavin peeled himself away from you and gave Charlie a sickly smirk. “I was actually just talking to my colleague about how much shit you chat.”

“Excuse me?” Charlie rose his fuzzy red brows.

“Giovanni’s you said you'd gone to, right? Funny, that. It closed down during the revolution and hasn't reopened since.”

Charlie stiffened. “That's... incorrect.”

“We can head there now, if you like?”

Charlie contemplated calling that bluff, but since he didn't know... “Alright. It wasn’t Giovanni’s. It was, ahem, the Eden Club.”

Gavin jeered. “I heard that's under new management now?”

“Paula Wright. She is the new owner of the establishment. She used to work there before turning deviant. You can understand why I may have been a little embarrassed about disclosing where I really was, but now that you have found part of my collection...” The sex toys. “I have nothing left to hide.”

“She's one of your alibis. Probs used to covering for perverts when the police come calling. I was thinking about something else you said earlier as well. How most of your clientele for your accounting business lived on this street. I thought maybe just plastics were taking your job, but I can't quite figure out how you're maintaining your lifestyle when your clients have run off? What's going on, Price?” 

You saw something under the foot of the wardrobe.

“The funny thing about accountancy is that I don't need to be in the same city as them to oversee their finances.”

“Hmm.” Gavin folded his arms. Something still seemed _wrong_ about Charlie.

“Gavin?” You slipped something into a clear bag and rose from your crouch next to the wardrobe. “I think I found what the intruders were looking for.”

“Hm?” Gavin turned and fixed his vision on the practically shattered, tiny, black memory drive in the bag. “What's that?”

“A thing that fucked up Connor.”


	5. New Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every cloud has a silver lining; that idiom had been proven wrong hundreds of times in your life. This morning, it was uncharacteristically true.  
> A cold and bitter morning; you're stuck with the boring job of handing evidence to forensics. Luckily for you, you bump into someone cute along the way. Better check those alibis at the Eden Club too...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder, as always (Y/n) and (L/n) for Your name and Last name.

While Charlie Price was plenty suspicious, there was nothing that actually incriminated the crafty bugger. His case remained a burglary one, but the cracked USB pen was set to go to the lab first thing in the morning. Not fond of an early start, Gavin had graciously entrusted that task to you. Once again, you were the delivery-girl. The bitter, cold, delivery-girl.

You cursed the thought of Gavin wrapped up in a duvet and snoring loudly as you traversed the ice-cold halls of the DPD. It wouldn't kill them to TURN THE FUCKING HEATING ON.

“Good morning, Officer (L/n).”

“Ah!”

Connor had materialised by your side. That must have been what happened because nothing forewarned you of his impending presence. “Sorry, did I startle you?” He said, knowing full well he'd frightened the living daylights out of you.

“No, I was practicing my singing. Gotta hit those high notes.” You grumbled, too exhausted to play coy. 

“You need more practice.” Connor noted. 

“You're not my first critic.”

“Won't be your last.”

You stared at him. “Well, aren't you in a snarky mood today?” 

“I know, I know. I'm sorry.” He seemed on edge, hands drawn automatically to his quarter. “I was told to stay home yesterday in order to monitor my condition.” That would explain why you hadn't seen him around. “It was extremely _frustrating_.” 

“Your day off was frustrating?”

“Exceedingly. There is nothing more annoying than having an open case that you are forbidden to work on for an entire twenty-four hours.” Connor matched his pace perfectly to yours. It was so perfect that you made sure to fumble a step, just to reclaim individuality. 

“They're just looking out for you.”

“No.” He was sore. “They banned me from accessing files and forced me to stay home because they thought I might be infected with _malware_ and _spyware_. The nerve of them. I am state of the art. I can't be hacked by trivial programs stored on prehistoric memory drives.” His hand lazily tossed out into the air. He was beginning to speak with his body more often these days. 

“Ah. The DPD have sensitive documents, you can't blame us for being cautious,” the pure look of abhorrence on his face made you swiftly continue your sentence “but how dare they! That is so rude of them! You're clearly not infected and a whole day of sitting around doing nothing, while a **murderer** is on the loose? That's just not on.” 

“Thank you. I'm glad someone around here understands me.” 

Your mood chirped up at that. The two of you were _bonding_.

“Anyway,” Connor started to chill out. “How did your first shift with Detective Reed go? I had wanted to send you encouraging emails to counteract whatever negativity Reed might have thrown at you, but I wasn't even allowed to _e-mail_.” Still bitter, but chill. 

“Aw, man, I could have really done with those in the first half of the shift! Gavin kept spamming me with, er, inappropriate content.”

“Pornography?”

“Pornography.”

“Yes. Reed was quickly blocked from messaging me.” Connor had already been on the receiving end of Gavin's vileness. That was probably how Connor was so sure he could sift through and deflect malicious malware and viruses. 

“The shift definitely had its moments where I was close to shooting myself,” You continued “but it went better than I thought it would. I still don't think this partnership will work out, but the case itself has gotten interesting.” 

Both of you stopped outside the locked double doors of the forensic laboratory. With a proud flourish you produced the cracked pen drive and dangled the bag before Connor's optical receptors. 

“Ah-" His pupils fixated on the tiny device. “I take it you believe this to be similar to the one found at the homicide?” 

“I wouldn't normally. I probably would have thought it was a coincidence that it looks so similar to the one I plugged into you, but our intruders were searching for something. **This** was found in a peculiar place. Under a wardrobe and I don't think it had just been accidentally kicked there. Mr Price got sweaty looking at it. I'm _certain_ this was what they were looking for.”

“’Certain' is a strong word for a detective.”

“I'm sticking with it.” You narrowed your eyes, a philosophical itch appeared somewhere on the back of your head. “There is a great deal of ‘luck' when it comes to being a detective.” You would know this, after spending a whole shift as an acting-detective. 

Connor didn't seem to agree. You didn't expect him to. He was too logical to acknowledge luck as a key factor in a crime scene. A thread of hair left behind. A spot of blood on the carpet. Something crashing at _just_ the right angle that points in the direction the perpetrator fled. These hypothetical bits of evidence, that Connor would only ever see as evidence, were luck. The USB you had found; luck.

“The sheer amount of luck that is _expected_ in our line of work is what makes me _certain_.” You concluded.

“That's contradictory.” Connor complained.

“It's being a detective.”

“I'd argue that keen perspective skills and the high probability of DNA samples being left behind play a bigger role in an investigation than ‘luck'. Before we get on to it, I'd also like to state that 'Gut feelings' are more likely productions of deductive reasoning.” 

“A high probability isn't a guarantee though, is it? You have to get lucky.”

Connor quietly put his hand on the scanner, eyes stuck on your wry smirk. The doors slid open. “I suppose I have no option but to concede that chance plays a part, but I'm not calling it ‘luck'. Probability.”

“I'll take that as a win.”

“As you like.”

You took a step towards the lab then took it back. You rose an eyebrow at Connor. “Hey, do you actually have business here too or are you just following me?”

“I have business here. Hank didn't get any results yesterday as they were busy with a DEA case. They proposed coming in the morning, so here I am.” Bright and early before the heating had even been switched on. You had to admire his devotion to work.

The next few words seemed to mindlessly slip out. “Shame. I wouldn’t have minded a cute stalker.”

“How strange. Having a stalker is usually a traumatic and anxiety inducing experience for the victim, yet you would disregard that providing the stalker was aesthetically pleasing?”

It was hard to tell, but you could have sworn he was _teasing_ you. “Er.” Though he was so deadpan that even if he was joking it had fallen horribly flat.

As you stammered for words, trying to figure out if Connor was mocking or chiding, the chief scientist sauntered over. 

Her black curls were held up in a messy bun. Dark brown eyes with bags under them bore holes into you. She stood slightly hunched; years and years of microscopes and computers had shaped her. She was around Hank's age, perhaps older but wore less wrinkles on her dark skin. “I thought it had gotten unreasonably loud in here.” If she hadn't gone into forensics, she would have been that strict teacher students were terrified of but respected.

“Morning, Dr Greene!”

“Is it?” She glanced at the few thin windows dotted near the ceiling. Frost framed the panes, suffocating the dribble of daylight that had broken past the clouds. “Good grief, so it is.” She whispered.

“Have you been here all night?” You asked in concern. 

She waved away your question, not wanting to acknowledge to herself that she had skipped sleep. “What can I do for you two?” 

Connor gestured for you to go first. 

~*~

Dr Greene blinked. Twice. “First you bring me a blank memory drive, now you bring me a broken one?”

“Blank?” Connor inclined his head closer. “Excuse me, did you say ‘blank'? I am 100% certain,” oh, there he was using that ‘strong' word “that it had a program stored on it.”

“It certainly _had_ something on it.” 

“’Had'?”

Dr Greene looked around the lab. “Goodness, is there a parrot in here?” 

Connor searched as well. “Why would a-" He stopped himself, realisation settling in.

“Do you wish to continue to be an echo or can I give you my results now?”

“Please proceed, Dr Greene.” Connor reeled himself in and you had to put some fingers to your lips to stop a giggle wiggling out.

Dr Greene kept her eyes on Connor for a moment, staring him down and putting him in his place. “We shall name the first drive 'A' and the broken one 'B'. Now, I have done every trick in the book to try and recover the program or files on memory drive A. I get given a lot of blank things and I can usually recover an incriminating file or two. This one is about as stubborn as a particular Lieutenant we all know.”

A fair comparison. 

“The best I've been able to do is track down some time stamps. Two, to be precise. The most recent one corresponds with drive A's discovery. This would be when whatever was on the drive was modified, executed or _erased_.” 

The air in the room thickened. While direct words were unspoken, both you and Connor understood she was accusing Connor of wiping it.

“Why would I tamper with evidence?” Connor asked, confused.

“I don't know, Detective. Solving the mysteries is not what I'm paid to do. I just analyse and do all the hard work.” 

Dr Greene was never anti android; they actually made her job a lot easier and it was less lonely to be locked away with something resembling a human. 

Detectives, on the other hand, were a species that Greene had never warmed too. Some of them would make impossible demands and kick off when she gave them answers they didn't want to hear. Her thick hide had grown as armour against their berating comments and empty threats. She had a particular hatred for Detective Reed (but so did everyone). However, it had never been a secret that Ben Collins was her favourite. If you ever needed something from Dr Greene, it was best to send Ben, but that loophole had now closed with his early retirement. 

“My main hypothesis is not that Detective Connor was the one who erased it, it's more likely that once the program has permission to run, it deletes itself thoroughly from the drive and leaves no traces on the device it ran on either. Connor's diagnostic scans came up clear. No digital trails of any suspicious programs or files.” 

You smiled. “That's a relief.” 

Connor frowned. “Is it? If something remained we could have worked off of it and progressed the case. Someone thorough enough to cover tracks is not a 'relief'. I would rather something was left behind.”

You screwed up your face. “And risk your circuits getting scrambled? No thanks. Your safety and well being is more important than the case.”

Dr Greene chuckled. “You sound like Jeffery.” A spirit of youthfulness pulsed from the doctor. “You wouldn't believe what he was like when he was young.” Then the stoniness returned. Work now, reminisce later was what she appeared to say to herself. 

“The first time stamp I found was 25th of November 2038, 13:43. This would be when the supposed program was saved to the device.”

“Good.” Connor held himself taller. “We have a date and time. I can work with that.”

Greene had not expected such a response. She was waiting for the usual tantrum or string of curses that came out of wound up detectives. It never came. “... I will see what I can make of the shambles that is drive B and see if the two are connected in any way. It could take a while and it’s not a guarantee I will have anything for you.”

“That's good enough for us, thank you, Dr Greene.” You were grateful. “Please, get some rest first.”

She never said goodbye, just pointedly stared over the rim of her glasses at the double doors. That was her kind way of telling you to see yourself out. She shuffled off to the computers in her slipper-like shoes; no intention of heeding your advice. She was too old and cantankerous to let a youngster like you tell her what to do.

You weren't about to hang around; you had sufficiently pissed her off last time you stopped by with memory drive A.

Unfortunately, Connor lingered like a bad smell. “If you need a hand-"

Nostrils flared as Greene sucked in air. “Thank you for the offer, but I do not. I am quite capable of doing this with my team.”

“I have no reservations about your capability, I am simply offering my-"

“ **Thank you** , Detective Connor.” That was it. That was the tone to end all conversations.

“...”

“...”

“I'm just aware” Connor, no! “that numbers are low and you're already so overworked-“

You were not a coward. 

You embraced the thrill seeking side of your job whole heartedly. You put up with being spat at and punched. Knife to your throat? Not a problem, use their weight against them and escape. Staring down the barrel of a gun? Well, yes, that was actually petrifying, but pissing your pants at that wouldn't make you a coward. Being on the wrong end of Dr Greene's red temper? Yes, another sufficient time to run and hide and not get labelled a coward. 

You were not cowardly, you were _smart_ when you disappeared from the laboratory. 

“Detective, I am growing increasingly tired of your presence.”

“I believe that tiredness is actually sleep deprivation.” A naively stated observation.

“There is nothing for you to do here. Go away, boy.”

Wow. She was giving him a final chance to escape. She was definitely tired. “Very well, should you need me, you have my contact details.” Connor nodded his head and joined you in the hall. The doors closed behind him. 

He turned to you but his eyes burned straight through you and into the vast expanse of the unsolvable mysteries of the universe. “Do all humans pick up the trait of utter stubbornness after they turn fifty?”

“No,” You began to walk down the corridor together. “Some of us are actually _born_ with it.”

Connor shook his head in disbelief. “For a species that became so reliant on androids and technology, you are all so quick to refuse help when it is sincerely offered.”

“Some people just don't like to be pitied. So much so, that they struggle on their own just to prove a non-existent point.” You spoke without thinking too hard. This was simply human nature; complex and illogical.

Connor took on board what you said. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Hank has already interviewed everyone who knew the victim of my case, I've been left with nothing to do apart from _wait_.” He really had an aversion to waiting for things or taking it slow. You couldn't blame him. The less he had to do, the more time he had to think. 

More time to confront his new confounded emotions. To address the fact he had no direction and a terrifying sense of free will that he was too afraid to use. Burying himself in work was the only way to stop himself from falling into a bottomless pit of uncertain depression. 

With that gnawing at the underside of his motherboard, Connor looked at you expectantly. “Is there anything I can help _you_ with?”

There was, actually, another thing Gavin had palmed off onto you. Checking Charlie Price's alibis. 

“Yes. There is.”

~*~

It is a very human flaw that when societal norms collapse and basic living takes precedence, places like the 'Eden Club' are back up and running within the month. In the Android Capital, heart of the revolution, a strip-club-brothel was the last thing you expected to thrive.

And yet...

“Hi there, we're looking for a Ms Paula Wright.”

It was early in the morning. The club was closed to the public but employees still cleaned up the messes from the previous night and, what you could only assume to be a manager, dealt with the admin malarkey of running a business. 

That suspected manager was a short man. He had rushed to the door once beckoned by the towering mountain of a security guard. He was plucky. A big grin sat on his face.

“I'm Detective (L/n) and this is Detective Connor.” You greeted the short man professionally, subduing the glee of referring to yourself as ‘detective’. Just for once, you wanted to hear how it sounded.

The short man shook your hand firmly. A tight and confident grip. Warm to the touch. “I'm afraid Ms Wright is currently out of town. I'm second in command here, is there anything I can help you with, Detectives?” 

Connor spaced out for a second as he ran a scan on the man. He always trusted his findings but it was polite to clarify. “Your name is Mr Jamal Darr, correct?”

Jamal shook Connor's hand as well, excitement building within him. “Oh wow, an RK800 prototype!” He cleared his throat, remembering that the world had evolved past such labels. “Sorry, sorry, forgot myself there. The Missus said your name is Connor, right? Pleasure to meet you."

“Mr Darr,” You started, a little annoyed how Connor sucked all the attention away from you. You didn't even comment on the use of the word 'Missus'. “I had actually hoped to speak with you today as well. You're not in trouble or anything, it's just a few questions about where Mr Charlie Price was last night, who he was with, things like that.”

Jamal's mocha skin paled. “Did something happen to Mr Price?”

“He's safe and unharmed.” You clarified. “But his house was broken into last night and valuables were stolen. We just want to check out Mr Price's alibis and see if you can shed any light on who might be the perpetrators.”

Jamal physically relaxed. “Of course, come in, come in.” He eagerly waved the two of you in and Connor, the gentleman that he is, let you enter first. 

The club at this time of morning felt, much to your surprise, like a normal building. A single cleaner sang songs to herself while she mopped the floors efficiently. The large man with brown hair and hazel eyes watched your movements carefully. He was the bouncer who had summoned Jamal. 

The glass coffins that once displayed naked androids for perverts to ogle and rent had been replaced with flattering posters, names and podiums with exotic android sex toys stood on them. No one currently twirled around the poles, but when night came you were sure the place _buzzed_ with life. 

What was once a sex palace designed for desperate humans with dangerous kinks, had been staggeringly transformed into a sex haven for androids and humans to explore themselves and each other **safely**. 

Jamal led the two of you to a private booth. Cosy and tucked away. You took out your tablet and stylus. “First things first, Mr Darr, can you confirm that a Mr Charlie Price was at this establishment last night between nineteen hundred and twenty-one hundred hours?”

“Yes, I can. He left just before 9.”

“Did you speak to him?”

“I did. He was in a meeting with myself and Ms Paula Wright.”

“May I ask what the meeting was about?” Mostly out of curiosity, but you didn't deny it could prove to be important to the case. Meetings in a brothel sounded too interesting to just let lie without questioning.

“Mr Price was very interested in managing our finances. We rejected his application.”

“Oh,” You furrowed your brow. “He never mentioned any of this. He said he had dinner with friends and named you as one of them.”

“We did eat.” Jamal confirmed. “Although 'friends' might be a bit of a stretch, though I'd say at this point we're more than just acquaintances.” He chuckled at some inside joke you weren't privy to. 

“Why did you reject him?”

“Paula prefers to deal with the finances herself. She has a very hands on approach to the business; likes to be in control and I personally don't blame her wanting control and power after what she went through.”

“Right. Mr Price did mention she used to work here before turning deviant. I can't imagine it being a particularly nice existence.” You felt your skin crawl at thought of sweaty hands pawing you against your will. 

“Paula is a firm believer that sex can be an exceptional experience for an android, but only when it is safe and consensual. I admire her a great deal. It takes a lot to come from that kind of background and use it to create a place such as this.” Jamal gestured to the club around him. “We will soon be changing the name of this establishment, when we both agree on a suitable title, anyway.” He laughed to himself.

Connor faintly cleared his throat. He didn't want you to get side tracked and it would have been easy to fall into a time-wasting rabbit hole of questions about Eden and Paula.

“Back to Mr Price.” You beamed. “You said not a friend but more than an acquaintance. Exactly, how well do you know him?”

“Not amazingly well. He is usually a client here. I believe he was a client at the old Eden as well but took on board our changes without a grumble. I think he's been having money troubles recently. He’s been spending less and less and was really begging for a job.”

“Interesting.” You muttered as the stylus tapped away. 

Connor spoke up while you typed. “Excuse me, but do you sell any software or programs here for androids?” 

You wanted to trick yourself into believing he was asking that question purely for personal reasons. Sadly, you knew he was referring to the memory drives. 

The excitement from earlier sparkled in Jamal's eyes again. “Of course! Hold on, I will get some things to show you.” He dashed between a few pedestals and returned to the booth with 3 boxes. He lay them out on the table in a specific order. Bronze, silver and gold. 

“These are our three most popular hampers.” 

You shuffled closer to the table. There was a shift in the tones Jamal used. The interview was now a sales pitch.

“Bronze is our Beginner's kit, also the cheapest.” He opened the lid and revealed a six inch mechanical penis, a black SD card and, what you could only assume based on its bright blue colour, a tube of thirium-based lube. All presented elegantly on a cushion of bronze coloured silk.

You blinked. Glanced at Connor and blinked again.

Connor picked up the SD card, ignoring the other items completely. “This,” The synthetic skin rolled back as he examined, with great caution, the little black card. “This has a program stored on it?”

“Yes.” Jamal said proudly. “That is our masturbation App. You pop it in, start the application and then take yourself on a wonderful journey of self discovery. It can be used with a partner but this is more designed for solo exploration. Obviously, the attachment in this bundle can be switched out for our standard vulva.” 

“Naturally.” You muttered, face turning red.

“May I see the others?” How could Connor be so nonchalant about this?! And why did Jamal have to bring over the bundles and not just the SD card on it’s own?!

The next box opened. The ‘intermediate’ kit. This one boasted a 7 inch cock and a plastic pussy. A tube of lube and another mini card. You dragged your hand down your face at the sight. This was surreal. 

“This is extremely popular for couples.”

Connor examined the new SD card with his bare hand. “I take it this has a different application?”

“Yep. This bad boy enhances sex for an android no matter whether their partner is another android or a human. It also runs in the background, don't worry it doesn’t take up much CPU and you can switch it off, but if you,” He was talking to Connor as if he were a _customer_

“if you started to get aroused, because this app can't force you to be aroused, all of my apps work off **your** emotions. Anyway, if you started to get aroused, the app would immediately pick this up and send a command down to the cock and boom! A semi that grows naturally into an erection and heightened sensitivity ALL over your body. I am so very, VERY proud of this one.”

Connor smiled kindly. “So you should be, these sound very complex and I deduce from your enthusiasm that you engineered and programmed most of these? Coupled with your knowledge of my model make, am I right in saying you used to work for CyberLife?” 

“You are. That's what I'd expect from an RK800. I left the company before they started work on you, but I was very interested in your design.” 

You tilted your head. “Why did you leave the company?”

“A clash of ethics. I, unfortunately, led the development of the HR400 and WR400 models. I was excited about the project and I was proud of my work from an engineering standpoint, but it felt wrong.” Jamal's eyes darkened. Then he continued.

“They felt too much like people. They _are_ people. Knowing they would be sold and used until they were broken beyond repair to then get torn up and used as spare parts? It was... sobering... I had made a mistake and CyberLife was only interested in my next project.” 

Connor closed his eyes to appreciate the words. Nothing Jamal could say or do would remove the stain he left on history, but Connor could at least appreciate that Jamal was trying to be a better man. 

He managed to refocus the interview. “These application programs, can they only be used once?”

Jamal snapped back into his perky salesman state. “No, no. I mean, in the future there may be updates that er, make them less compatible and a replacement may need to be bought, but no. Once you have it you can use it as much as you like. Leave it in and switch it on when you want, or let it run in the background to respond to arousal.” 

“Hmm.” Connor was deep in thought. “Do you have any competitive rivals who have their own version of this?” 

“I don't believe so. We brand our sex toys and attachments as 'SHOCK'. Our products all have our ‘SHOCK' logo on them and I haven't seen any other things sporting anything else. I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I really doubt anyone would be able to replicate even a fraction of my apps or attachments.” Jamal was resolute in that statement.

Connor twirled the SHOCK SD card over and under his fingers, similarly to how he handled his coin. “May I have this?” 

You covered your mouth. Face reddening further.

“For you two, I think I have a more suitable bundle.” Jamal slapped the roof of the gold box. “8 inches, balls-“

“That's not why I-" Connor, the perfect investigator, actually stuttered for a moment. “we’re not-" his fingers flicked between the two of you.

“We're just friends.” You stated, cool as a cucumber. Though you were pretty sure your soul had abandoned your body. “I think the Detective wants to take it as _evidence_.” 

Jamal slammed a palm to his face. “Right! The investigation! Sorry, I was stuck in sales mode for a moment there. Er, I suppose you can take it but I can't see why that would be related to Mr Price's case?”

“I can't disclose any information, but this would be useful.” Connor had recovered from his flustered moment. Which was a shame. He had looked very adorable and innocent.

Jamal sighed, lamenting the money he could have gotten for the chip. “Sure, take it.” 

Connor nodded and thanked him. “Officer (L/n), didn't you say we needed to speak to an Antony Decann as well?” 

'Antony Decann' too close to 'Antony Deckart'. 

Just like that, the blessed image of flustered Connor was erased from your mind and replaced with flashes of a nightmare.

That name made you flinch. You nodded your head, too afraid to speak in case the bile rising in your throat made an escape. A familiar tinnitus rang in your ears, a reminder of _that_ moment when shots deafened you and the taste of gunpowder in the air settled on your tongue.

“Tony?” Jamal pointed to the buff android bouncer. “That's Tony over there. Head of security.”

You let Connor take the lead. He was reluctant to at first, this was still your investigation. He didn't want to take over, but he could also read that you had no desire to talk to the security guard. He couldn't fathom what had altered your mood. As the interview progressed, Connor kept professional and focused. The calm in his voice, even though he wasn't talking to you, grounded you. You slowly chased the demons of your past away and found yourself again. Back in the present. 

~*~

After you confirmed with Antony that Charlie had definitely been at the Eden Club the previous night, you and Connor were free to leave. 

“I really didn't expect my first investigation to have so much sex-toy involvement.” You both walked to the self driving cab. You had opted for that over your blatant cop-car.

The door slid open and Connor let you get in first. “I've studied thousands of cases and this seems fairly mild.” Connor sat next to you, thighs touching before he gave you more room. 

“Really?” You shook your head; you really didn't want to know the sick things criminals did. Especially with dildos and butt plugs. Toys were for fun things, like making Connor metaphorically blush. “Forget that anyway, see anything you like in there?” Your eyebrows bounced.

Connor's lips were open but no sound came out for a while. Eventually he managed, “I- that can't be a serious question?”

You pushed him gently. “It wasn't, but after _that_ reaction it is! I'm curious to know what got you going?”

Connor adjusted his tie, desperate for any kind of distraction. “Nothing ‘got me going' as you so eloquently put it. Those sort of additions are not something that interest me.” 

“Not even a little?”

Connor met your eyes. “You almost sound disappointed, (Y/n).”

Warmth spread across your cheeks. “No, just surprised.” 

He leaned closer, dropping his voice to almost a whisper. “Why? Did something ‘get _you_ going' in there?” Then he winked and drew back. “Ah, the surface temperature of your face just increased.” 

“D-did you just try flirting with me?”

Connor mimicked a scoff. “You started it!” 

Your eyes widened. “No, I did not!”

Skeptical, Connor rested his hands on his thighs. “My apologies, I didn’t realise questions relating to a colleague’s sexual preference was standard detective banter.” 

Sarky bastard.

“Pfft, yeah, of course it is! Those are the kind of jokes you have with your partner! It's how you stay positive amongst all the nitty gritty crime.”

Connor smiled. “I can assure you, I don't want to know a single thing about Hank's _personal affairs_.”

“He strikes me as an ‘anal with a woman' kind of guy.”

Connor swiftly covered his ears. “Nope. We are not having this conversation.” 

You started to laugh and tried to pull Connor's hands away, making him grin as he attempted to shake you off. 

“Anal!” You shouted in the safe confines of the soundproof cab. The two of you fidgeted around in the back seat. You constantly suggested dirty things about Hank and his old-man sex life and Connor laughed in the _disgusted but amused_ sort of way.

Until...

Connor moved a finger to your lips while the other hand remained on his ear. “Shhhh.”

That smile on his face was radiant. His synthetic skin against your lips was silken. You lost yourself while staring into those vibrant brown eyes; he had been so serious in the club, but so playful in the brief respite from work. 

Connor dropped his finger away. “I didn't expect that to silence you so effectively.”

“Hm? Maybe I'm a Sub.” 

“A... sub?” The cogs turned and turned. “I... don't know what you mean by that. A sandwich? A subway train?” 

You sucked your lips in to eat your smile. “Don't worry about it, Connor. It was just a joke.” But if he wanted to tie you up or take a paddle to your arse then he was more than welcome to. 

The door of the cab opened, letting in the chilling air and unwelcome grey sunlight. You wanted that ride to last just a little bit longer. Connor was like a summer in the heart of winter, even though you knew he must have been working his way through so much inside his head, he was still open to being happy. 

You wanted to make sure he didn't lose that.

Connor's long legs were first to exit the car. “I better get this Secure Digital card to Dr Greene. Then we are back to waiting.” He grumbled the last bit. _Waiting_. 

“Or,” You were going out on a limb here “we could play video games at my place until work needs us?”

Connor paused. That was a very tempting proposition. Being detectives gave you weird work times and for now, you were stuck waiting on forensics or for another case. Whichever came first. 

Unable to help himself and his curiosity of video games, Connor turned back to you. “I like that idea. Wait here, I'll be right back.” He winked at you and dashed inside to drop off the SD card, the icy snow on the path not hindering him in the slightest. 

“Did he... was that a wink?” 

A familiar flutter started in the pit of your stomach and spread throughout your body. He was acting so... _Human_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm introducing a few OCs at the moment, so I apologise about that because I know it's hard to get attached to characters outside of the canon but they are necessary. You'll be seeing more canon characters as the 'mystery' unfolds, I can promise you that.  
> Next chapter, however, is less plot and more... Well. We shall see. ;)


	6. Game Changer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor finally came over for that games day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Y/n) and (L/n) are the place holders used, as usual.  
> I will come back and proof-read things tomorrow or something ;P

Your apartment is what polite guests would describe as ‘humble'. You would call it _small_ and _grotty_ , but _cheap_. You hadn't redecorated and it showed. Ghastly combinations of various greens and purples disgraced your walls and you adamantly informed Connor that they were results from previous tenants. 

As a side note, you had definitely changed the bed sheets. Not that you had any reason to expect a guest in there. 

Connor scanned the living space with a cold, analytical eye. You didn't take offence; he often slipped into this state upon arriving at a new location and your apartment was very alien to him. 

He saw remnants of neglected hobbies you had tried to make the time for. A thin layer of dust coated your ornaments; they had been cleaned recently but not recent enough. The floor had been vacuumed and dishes washed. No dirty clothes littered the room (not this room, at least). Two doors on the left wall would presumably lead to the bathroom and the bedroom.

The living room bled into the kitchen, which was nothing special. Connor couldn't help but notice that a staple appliance was very obvious in its absence from a Policewoman's kitchen. A coffee machine. He had thought, in a metaphorical sense, that police officers relied on caffeine in the same way an android relied on thirium to live. Perhaps that only applied during duty hours.

Connor finished gathering data on you and calculated an appropriate opinion. Then formed a personal one.

“You have a very lovely home.” Connor obliged the calculated opinion.

You laughed. “It's definitely a place I dwell in, sometimes.” 

“Where do you dwell other times?” 

“The precinct.” That was more depressing than you expected it to be. “And the Cop-bar.” You added for good measure. Never Gavin's place, by the way, your sloppy midnight rendezvouses always found their way back to _your_ place. Which was fine. Less chance of infection at your place.

“I was prepared for a more sarcastic answer.” Connor hovered near the door, out of place in his crisp, slim-fit suit and perfectly styled hair. Like he was still at work and this was a crime scene he was careful not to disturb. 

“Oh,” You put away your coat. “Sometimes I'm not witty. I know, hard to believe. Anyway, make yourself comfortable, Connor.”

‘Comfortable' you had said. Connor was unfamiliar with how to be ‘comfortable’ in someone else's house that didn't have a corpse in. This was where you lived. Ate, slept, dabbled in recreational activities. He was an intruder in that personal space. Disrupting the ambiance of – oh, there was the video game console tucked into the TV stand. He zeroed in on that and went over to have a good nose. 

You piloted the kitchen absent minded, collecting favourable snacks and deciding on a non-alcoholic drink. If beer and spirits possessed you to fuck Gavin, goodness knows what you'd do in Connor's company. Besides, it was early afternoon and you could be called back to work any minute.

“I know androids don't eat or drink, but can I get you anything?” 

Connor fondled the console, white hands exposed. “I could lick a chip, I suppose? Would that make me a more typical guest?”

“Only if you then proceeded to scarf the whole bag and leave salty crumbs everywhere.” You closed the last cupboard and waddled to the sofa. “TV on.” The device lit up. “HDMI 3.” The source switched and the ambient sounds of the console's home screen filled the lounge. “Display games.” A list appeared and Connor backed away to the sofa. 

“I must confess and apologise. I've already browsed your collection.” 

That explained the console-groping. “Rude. What if I had something private on there?”

“I kept strictly to the games library.” 

“I might have some dodgy R-rated ‘games' on there.” You were mostly winding him up, but then he came out with;

“Well, I did wonder what ‘Virtual Boyfriend Simulator’ would entail.”

“Now hold on!” You jolted forward in your seat. That game had been a joke. A joke that was between you and Tina Chen when you had both sat on your sofa with drinks in hand and laughter in your bellies over the fact that you were both hopelessly single. “That was downloaded as a joke!”

“Of course. I didn't suspect anything else.” Why did he sound so smug? Connor was teasing you again. 

“You can take him for a whirl if you like?” You snatched a glove-controller from the coffee table and scrolled down to the title. 

Connor held up a hand. “No, I don't think that will be necessary. In all seriousness though, what genre would you suggest beginning with? Preferably not one where I have to date the console.” 

“Consoles not your type?” He simply gave you a stern look. You cleared your throat. “I think a racing game would be a good start. I've only got one VR headset though...” The goggles were sat on the coffee table next to the other glove. You could play it on the television, but that wasn't the best way to experience games any more. The TV was old school,almost obsolete in the industry. 

“Not a problem. I can wirelessly connect to the console.”

“Right.” The convenience of being an android. “Let's get this game's day on the road.”

You geared yourself up while Connor's little light flickered yellow and he closed his eyes. His body went rigid. All cognitive thought had uploaded to the system. He could run around and dance but not even a finger would twitch back in the real world unless he forcefully willed it. He was more immersed in the virtual realm than you ever would or could be. 

On the other hand, while you saw a world of trees, brooks, blue skies and race tracks, all Connor could see was lines of coding and vectors. He had to switch off his instincts; the programs inside that made him investigate every detail as soon as he stepped into a room. He took a deep breath and recalibrated. 

Then, he saw what you saw.

Golden rays of sun filtered through the lush, full trees. The rush of water and bird’s song combined beautifully together in a way that mandated Connor to relax his guard. Aside from the two of you, there was no one else. No humans. No androids. Just synthetic nature and wrinkled reflections in the stream before you. 

A twisted road wrapped itself around the world and stretched off into the distance. Quiet and dead until you signal the game to start.

Connor studied this new land. “This is... different.” He could almost believe he felt _safe_.

“How so?” You flicked your hand to prompt a new vehicle in front of you and kept flicking until you found a car you liked. 

“It adopts the appearance of the real world but the binary makes me acutely aware that it's _different_. The best way to describe it to a human would be that it is like a constant buzz in the background that I can't seem to shut off.”

“That sounds pretty annoying. Did you want to stop?” You glanced at him, trying to read his expression. 

Connor was replicated perfectly in the game, with the only difference being a swanky leather Race Driver costume. You were unfortunately stuck with an avatar you had customised at some point in your life. 

Connor looked puzzled. He tried to process all the data around him yet ignore it at the same time.

“No, I’m sure I'll stop noticing it eventually.” 

He pressed a hand against a tree, testing it. It was solid and dressed with a rough texture. As though it had been designed to be touched even though players wouldn’t be able to feel the crisp bark.

Connor wandered to the specialised space to invoke cars. “I have often had to hack devices and computers, but entering this chunk of programming is an entirely new sensation. A different _flavour_ of world.”

“You can _taste_ it?” You wrinkled your nose and moved on to select a nice colour. 

“That would be an adequate analogy, yes.” He copied your movements, summoned a car and based his choice on raw statistics. 

You chuckled to yourself. “I wonder what ‘Virtual Boyfriend Simulator’ tastes likes?” 

The corner of Connor's mouth raised into a small smirk. “I'm not sure I want to find out.” 

You bobbed your head from side to side as you considered whether you wanted to or not. You didn’t voice the verdict you reached. 

Connor pointed as you climbed into the driver’s seat. “Is that the car you plan to **race** me in?” 

“Yeah. What's wrong with it?”

“Nothing at all.” Connor got behind his own wheel. “I just wondered if you were going easy on me, because my choice is clearly superior.” 

“Careful. That cockiness could choke you.” With a wave of your hand, like a wizened wizard, contenders were conjured. 

An array of colourful racers and their randomly generated cars sprung up in the designated starting places. An ode to Dick Dastardly took the front spot. Had you created that or was he already in the game when you installed it?

Connor was surprised at the company. “We race against the computer as well? Surely they have an unfair advantage? The game knows the tracks by code, being able to recognise every pebble that could slow it down.”

“Maybe, but honestly, the A.I is pretty dumb in this.”

“A.I.” Connor withdrew into himself a little. What exactly did Artificial Intelligence mean to him now? Was he still artificial? Fake? An imitation? 

“Ready, Connor?” You smiled out of the window at him. “The other racers are just distractions, the real competition is between you and me.” 

“Right.” He looked at you, for a brief moment slipping into reality to see your real face and not your avatar and then-

That smile. There was something about the way you smiled at him. This was about having _fun_. This wasn't about work, politics or philosophy. This was about shutting off from reality and exploring who he was. What did Connor the detective enjoy when he wasn't at work?

Connor's lips parted as he stared at you. Hank had often encouraged him to have his own opinions and make his own decisions, but there was something distinct about the support you offered him. It was a weird feeling when he was around you. He hadn't decided if he liked it or not yet. 

He returned to the game. “I hope you're not a sore loser.” Connor forewarned as he revved his car.

He stalled when the race began. 

~*~

Hours and realms went by. You ended up playing some games you hadn't even touched before. Genres you weren't normally keen on, but experiencing them with Connor made it enjoyable, or at the very least, tolerable. 

You debated whether to load up a horror game or not, but Connor took the decision out of your hands. 

“(Y/n)? I think we should put this away for the day. I must apologise, I've allowed us to exceed the max amount of hours recommended for the headset. I am truly sorry.” The sincerity in his voice was pure and regrettable. It hadn't been his fault at all. You were responsible for your own blunders.

He disconnected from the console and you removed the visor. Your eyes felt dry and tired. Connor commented on how bloodshot they were as well.

You tugged off the gloves and various other sensors. “Well, I had a lot of fun. Thank you, Connor. I honestly can't remember the last time I got a chance to play any of these.” It was nostalgic, but refreshing. Sharing memories of a time before Connor had even been constructed made you feel... old. 

With a smile, you collapsed onto the sofa. No new updates from the station which was both good and bad. 

Connor stood in the centre of the room. If he had a tendency to fidget, he would be fidgeting. He, instead, had the bad habit of zooming in on every little detail. 

You patted the sofa and coaxed him over. 

He stiffly sat down. The deal had been he would come and play video games; now that the activities had concluded, Connor pondered how or when he should leave your home. Was it okay for him to stay? Was it rude to stay? His social module was close to overheating as it whirred away contriving an answer. 

“What did you like best, Connor?” You rubbed your eyes and nibbled on a treat. 

“Hm?” He looked at you, having not heard the question. “Say that again, please?”

“The games. What ones did you like?”

“I liked Tetris.” 

“Because you won?”

“It pushed my reflexes to the limits. It was exhilarating.” 

Only Connor would have awestruck sparkling eyes over 'Tetris'. A retro game that was timeless and apparently species-less. You had to admit, his precision was perfect and he had got to a level that ran so fast, blocks just seemed to appear in the correct places. You were pretty sure it couldn't get any faster. 

He only lost in the end because you went for a piss and Connor got distracted for one millisecond which destroyed his entire rhythm. 

You had felt bad about it, but jumped on the opportunity to switch to another game. 

“What game was your favourite?” 

You paused. There had been an RPG that had taken your fancy, but that was **purely** because Connor had selected a rogue and the earthy Robin Hood look worked wonders on his lean body. A tingle zipped up your spine.

You shrugged. “I like lots of them.” 

“I though for sure you were going to say 'Virtual Boyfriend Simulator'.”

“You know what, you seem obsessed with that game. If you want to play it, really, go for it-”

“I'm joking! Joking!” Connor's laugh was rare to hear. In fact, you were probably the person who had heard it the most. He couldn't help it around you. Things were triggered within him that had never happened when he was a mindless slave to CyberLife. 

His social module had evolved into something more human. It reacted to the world around him in a sensitive way. The little human quirks he had been given to help integrate into society had become true ways to express himself. It was _annoying_ to him. 

There were times he wished he could go back to the machine he was before.

Around you; that was not the case.

The way you made him feel; he could actually be himself around you, whoever that man was. 

More gentle banter batted between the two of you in a controlled volley. Eventually the jokes petered off and conversation settled into a comfortable silence. You felt somewhat sleepy; early mornings and late nights caught up to you. 

The sensible thing to do would be to wrap up the visit and cordially shoo Connor home, so you could rest your eyes for an hour or two.

On the other hand, Connor was a delicious feast for your eyes and they hadn't quite finished the buffet. Your ears concurred, arguing that his voice calmed and cleansed your soul.

The loudest advocate of keeping Connor here was your heart. You _liked_ his presence. It felt _natural_ to have him around. You didn't want him to leave, and the way he scrambled for another conversation topic proved he wasn't ready to leave either. 

“I still owe you a favour.” 

“A _big_ favour.” You corrected with a mischievous grin. 

“Any thoughts on what I can do for you?”

Many. Many, many thoughts. “What about answering some questions for me?” You made yourself comfy on the couch. Ready for one of those ‘deep talks'.

Connor stirred. “Questions? About your case?”

“Nope. Personal questions.”

“Oh.” Connor tilted his head to the side. “I don't particularly have anything to hide, so ask away.”

“What's your first memory?”

Connor's LED flickered as it retrieved an accurate answer. “I booted up- I _woke_ up in a testing chamber. I completed the Turing Test. A woman came in and shook my hand. She told me to prepare for the next test immediately.” 

He didn't frown or wince at the memory. He was neutral about it. “May I ask what yours is?” 

You grit your teeth and gave it some thought. You told him a rough memory from your childhood. Nothing spectacular, but made sure to keep it light hearted. 

Connor waited for your next question. Whenever he wasn't around, thousands of queries tormented you throughout the day, but now you had the chance to probe him, your mind went fairly blank.

You plucked a question out of thin-air. “Do you wear cologne?” 

“No, but I would apply a moderate amount for formal or special occasions.” 

“What counts as a special occasion?” Ah. You knew where you were blindly leading this conversation to. 

“Office parties. Meeting a prominent politician. Perhaps some birthdays.”

You couldn't help yourself. You had to ask. “What about before going on a date?”

Connor blinked. The concept was absurd. “That would depend on who my date would be. Another android? Then no. It would serve no purpose.” 

You bit your lower lip. “But you would wear it for a human?”

“I-" 

The notion of having an android love interest was farfetched already, but imagining a human partner? That was even more delusional. Yet, Connor locked eyes with you. Curiosity reared its head; a romance with a human. _What would that be like_?

“It would depend on her tastes.” Connor finalised.

“’Her'?" You mused.

“Oh. That was,” Connor furrowed his brow. “I didn't realise I have a preference.”

“Maybe that's because you already thought of someone to hypothetically date?” 

Connor used his hands to shuffle closer. “No. I had never considered going on ‘dates' before. It was hardly a priority.”

“But what about when I asked you just now? Did someone automatically come to mind?” You leaned forward. This was dangerous territory. Continue to be obvious and he'd realise that you were interrogating him because you had a crush on Connor. 

And an innate sexual attraction that you tried to ignore as best as you could.

“Excuse me, I apologise for what I am about to say but, you appear to have a vested interest in my non-existent love life. Is there a reason you want to know about it?” 

Ah, there it was. “Not particularly.” There was no point in lying. Connor saw through you with his scans. You still felt the urge to pretend you weren’t interested. Perhaps you could play it off on another excuse. 

“If you are curious as to my status in regards to conventional romantic relationships; I'm single.”

“Oh. That's good to know. You know, for gossip reasons?” Flawless cover. Everyone was always talking about who was fucking who at work. He had avoided a real answer though. He'd given no names.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you in a relationship?” 

“No.” An honest answer. 

The closest thing you had to a boyfriend was drunk-fucking Gavin every now and then. It was like a one-night stand, just with the same person every time. After the first night it happened, you both established that neither of you wanted a relationship; the sex was just classic desperation on both of your parts. 

You smiled at Connor. “Why did you ask that?”

“Well,” He held your gaze. Confident in his next words. “It is polite to reflect questions like this back at the asker in social scenarios. It helps me learn more about you. You flirt with me often, so it is good to know I can flirt back without anyone getting emotionally hurt due to infidelity.” 

“Right, I'm going to ignore the bit where you implied that I would _cheat on a boyfriend_ and just point out that I do **not** flirt with you!” 

Connor's smug smirk lit up his face. Almost ear to ear. “You **definitely** flirt with me.”

“Ha. No. We've already talked about this. Detective banter.” 

“Ah, of course. Yes, I'm sure you ask Detective Reed what android attachments 'gets him going' as well.” 

That was meant to be a jest from Connor, but you suddenly had flash backs of plastic dildos and pink strap-ons being thrown at you. “Er,” You grimaced. 

“Oh.” Connor couldn't mask his disappointment. “Then, it really is just inappropriate jokes between colleagues?”

You closed more of the distance. Your knees grazed against his. “We're still in the middle of question time.”

“Sorry.”

There was a tension in the room. Not a harsh one. It was a tension of unsaid words building up around you. Emotions being oppressed and the volume at which they shouted at you made your voice shrink. 

“What do you think of me?”

Connor's jaw was set as his vision fixed on you. “You are somewhat of an enigma. A side of me I never knew existed comes out when I am around you and I am unsure how that affects me. What do you think of-”

Your finger softly landed on his lips, stopping him from bouncing the question back at you. You swallowed thickly. Heat was rising within. “If I told you I liked you, how do you think that would make you feel? This is purely hypothetical, of course.”

Connor placed his hand upon yours and guided it away from his mouth. He continued to hold your hand, eyes still focused on your own as he answered. “I hadn't considered such a possibility.” You let him churn through that idea, ignorant of the fact that you were both slowly drawing together, like a pair of magnets that had only now realised that one of you was north and the other was south. 

“I guess I would... … …” Connor's lips were feather-light when they skimmed against your cheek. The kiss stayed there on your face, allowing his mouth to feel how hot your blush had gotten. 

This; you hadn't predicted. 

He hastily retreated from you; devastated at himself. “I-I-” Connor stammered and touched the ring on his temple. It flickered between red and yellow. “I'm so sorry, my social module prompted me to do that and I just obeyed without a second thought.” He had acted on _impulse_.

Connor stared at you, his brown orbs darting left and right in search of a disapproving response from you.

Instead, you reached out and smoothed a crease on his tie. Once it had rippled away, your hand remained on his chest. You met his panicked eyes with resolute calm ones. In a tone that was virtually a whisper, you said;

“You missed.”

“... Pardon?”

Your fingers curled around his tie and tugged him towards you. He let you guide his body and closed his eyes after you closed yours. 

This time, Connor's lips were against your own. His kiss was hesitant; only data he had gleaned from day-to-day life gave him any inkling on what to do. He didn't move at first and that was fine. It gave you a precious moment to appreciate that this was **happening**. 

Your mouth began to move, taking the lead in this dance. Connor imitated the action, less clumsily than you had expected. 

Eager to taste the android's unique flavour, your tongue licked his lip. His mouth opened with a very quiet 'Ah' when realised what was happening. He was moist and an uncommon zest coated his tongue. 

It fascinated you and made you thirst for more. Your tongue got adventurous and Connor started to give as good as he got. 

His hands ghosted up your arms and he squeezed your shoulders to keep you close. Your saliva on his tongue was intoxicating. His systems went into overdrive breaking down the layers of your DNA. If it had just been a sample, it wouldn't have done this to him. The fact that you were a constant source of sensation against his tongue made the experience less analytical and more raw passion.

Strands of data got tangled as he licked your bottom lip. One of his hands stroked your neck and followed it to the back of your head. His fingers danced across your scalp, massaging it and inadvertently deepened the kiss.

You wrapped his tie around your hand some more while the other one gave his thigh a tender stroke. He shivered and nipped your lip with his teeth. A cute accident. It didn't hurt. It urged your hand to be firm on his thigh, caressing it.

You relented your grip on his tie so your palm could cup his face. Connor broke away from your lips and turned into your hand, kissed it and savoured the sweet touch. Your nose brushed against his cheek, your breathy sigh trickled down his neck. 

“Connor,” You breathed into his ear, another flutter shot through his circuits. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” He murmured back.

The hand on your shoulder climbed to your back. He embraced you and held you close; too precious for him to lose. It was possessive in a way but remained soft and naïve. You hugged him back, placing a kiss on his neck as you buried your face into the crook of it. 

Connor hardened.

And not in the good way. 

He abruptly pulled away from you and held you at arms length. “I'm sorry, no. No. This isn't okay.”

“Eh?”

Connor's LED was red. “We are work colleagues, we shouldn't be fraternising like this. I'm sorry, this is all my fault.”

“Connor, slow down.” You took hold of his arms and ran your hands along them until you met his wrists and peeled away his grasp on your biceps. “If you don't like me in that way it's perfectly fine. I'm sorry, I was the one who took us down this path.”

“It's not that. I do have an irrational fondness for you and this feels exceptionally _good_ but, _we work together_. You are a human and I am an android. There are many reasons why this _won't work_. I could never satisfy you on an emotional and physical level.”

“Wait, what? Please, Connor, can we start with one thing at a time so we can talk about this-”

He stood up and shook his head. “I'm sorry, (Y/n). I should have left as soon as we had finished playing games but, I enjoy your company so much. No, I should leave now.” He nodded his head at you and Connor promptly escaped to the door. 

“Connor! Don't just run away!” You jumped up as well. He stopped at your words.

“I'm not running away.” He didn't look at you. “I need to clear my head for a while. Sorry, if I stay here I... I may kiss you again.” He said that like it was a bad thing. Which, if he was confused and conflicted, might have been true. 

You sighed but quit your pursuit. “Okay. Just, please text me or something once you've had time to think.” 

“Of course. I'm sorry once again. It was very unprofessional for me to kiss you like that.”

“I liked it.” You squeaked. 

“...” Connor still did not glance back.

“Have a good evening.”

“You too.” He let himself out and you watched the door creak and close behind him. 

“... FUCK.” You dropped onto your sofa and screamed into a cushion. 

You had moved too fast and now everything with Connor had fucked up. You stood a chance with him but instead you let your cunt dictate what the fuck to do with him and he had scampered away thanks to your thoughtlessness. 

You groaned. Furious with yourself. 

With Connor gone and an acidic burning in the pit of your stomach, you decided to take a shower to scrub the sin off your skin. You didn't know whether you felt guilty, angry, pining, sad, horny or what. It was all just a mess up there in your head and you hoped the steam would clear it.

~*~

The shower had done WONDERS for you. Your temper had tapered off and you were ready to get on with the night. First, however, you needed to check your phone for any messages from Connor. Your eyes widened at the number of notifications, but not one of them was from the android.

3 missed calls. Fifteen text messages. 1 urgent voicemail. These were sure-fire signs that shit had hit the fan. Gavin desperately needed you back at the precinct; he had made that quite clear but left out any other details. 

Your uniform grew damp in places as you haphazardly pulled clothes on, not entirely dry. You repeatedly shouted at your phone “Call Gavin Reed!” and listened to the dialling tone over and over until it was interrupted by

_”Hey there, this is Detective Reed. I can't answer your call right now. Leave a message.”_

There wasn't time to muse over how you expected a more sarcastic or unprofessional voicemail message from the childish detective. All there was time for was an incoherent string of panicked curse words and insults. You couldn't get through to him, no matter how many times you called. 

Whatever junk that had happened with Connor would have to wait for you to brood over later. Something was happening at the station and you were terrified for your colleagues' safety.

Taking your conspicuous cop-car, you turned on the siren and lights. You zoomed through every red light as your phone sat on its perch trying to phone Captain Fowler instead of Gavin. The Busy-tone was all you got. 

“Fucks sake. SOMEONE ANSWER!” 

You hit the steering wheel with your fist. The sky was almost black despite only being 5PM. Winter took Detroit into its icy claws and concealed it in a box of darkness. The lights of your car twisted and swirled and drew plenty of attention. A flash of colour on this dark, cold night. 

~*~

You were out of breath. The elevator had taken too long so you jumped two steps at a time. When you entered the bullpen, breathless and red-faced, the first thing you saw was Gavin roosting on Tina's desk with a coffee in his hand. 

They chatted away, carefree. When Gavin spotted you, he gave Tina an unwelcome pat on the back and swiftly walked over to you. He guided you off to the side and you let him as you caught your breath. His voice dropped to a gruff whisper. 

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“Having a shower! Why didn't you answer my calls?! What's going on?!” 

As your voice rose, Gavin tried to hush it down with his hands. He got even closer to you. Paused to sip his coffee. Then continued to speak quietly. “You're going on patrol.” 

“Pardon?” Agog, you searched his eyes for the punchline or the hidden message in what he had just said. 

“Get your gear ready, you're going on patrol. Your old beat, dipshit. Fucking Fowler was about to put _me_ on it with a plastic chick.” He scowled as those last words spat from his lips.

The thought of being demoted to a beat-cop with a useless tin-can to sift through the shit on the streets of Detroit; it was a pure nightmare to Gavin.

You covered your face with your hands. You rubbed your eyes and wiped away the sweat on your cheeks as you slowly dragged your fingers down your features. Your palms pressed together and you leant your lips on the tips of your fingers. 

“Are you telling me,” A deep breath through your nose. “That you left voicemails, messages and missed calls on my phone, making me panic that something had kicked off or an important development in the case had just been made, or-or someone had been **hurt** ,” Your eyes quivered for a tiny second. “All because **you** can't be **fucked** to go out on patrol for a night?”

Gavin avoided your eyes and hid his lips behind the coffee mug. “Why you getting so pissy? You're the one who's jumped to stupid conclusions. I'm the senior officer here anyway, follow your damn orders.” 

Gavin's mug vanished from his hand and reappeared on the floor several feet away; now in 3 jagged pieces. The shit-brown liquid crept along the tiles to an empty desk. Everyone's eyes flickered from the wreck to you as your violent hand took refuge in your bosom. 

“ **Are you fucking kidding me?!”** You screeched at him, adrenaline from the sheer volume of anxiety he had caused still pumping strong in your veins. “Don't you fucking ever pull a stunt like that again, Reed!” Your other index finger viciously stabbed him in the chest and he looked down at you, eyes like a deer in headlights. 

“Whoa, chill the fuck out.” 

Your voice finally diminished. “I put up with a lot of your shit, Gavin. You took it too far tonight.” The anger had simmered into a quiet disappointment. You shook your head at Gavin and walked off to prepare for your shift on the streets with whoever they dared pair you with tonight. 

You were already wound up because of what had happened with Connor, but Gavin and his stupid selfishness had dragged up past trauma by making you _panic_ so damn much. Antony's lifeless eyes stared into yours when you closed them. You didn't want to have to go back to therapy. Not now. 

The rest of the precinct set their eyes on Gavin, waiting for the next act of the opera. He waved his hand in the air and turned away from his audience. “Shouldn't someone mop that up? Fucking dangerous, that is.” 

Tina grunted and closed the report she was writing up. She reached for some tissues and Robert quirked an eyebrow. “You not gonna clean that up for that dick, are you?”

“Don't want (Y/n) getting into trouble. Got to clean up the evidence before Fowler comes back from his meeting upstairs.” Tina mumbled as she carefully gathered the porcelain parts. 

“Hey, I'm not sure what Reed did, but I'm sure he deserved it. Ain't nobody gonna let (Y/n) get in trouble. We'd all back her up.” While Robert said this, Tina continued to deal with the aftermath. 

A part of her wanted to go and check up on you. Make sure you were okay and to find out what happened. The other part of her told her to stay out of it and text Chris later for him to be the good pal instead.

All you wanted to do was sit in the locker room for ten minutes and figure out where the heck the day had gotten so twisted and rotten. 

As you rubbed your forehead, the door tentatively opened. “Um, Officer (L/n)?”

“Hm?” You didn't look up.

“Hello. My name is Chloe. I'm one of the new recruited androids for patrol. Detective Reed said I should report to you. I saw you go in here so I followed but now I'm not sure if I should come back later?”

Feeling particularly unpleasant, you managed to regard Chloe. 

Ah, you could see why that was her name. They all seemed to be called Chloe. ST200, one of the model numbers you knew off by heart because they were so common and old now. Still, she was a rookie in need of guidance. Perhaps this would be a good distraction from both Connor's mixed messages and Gavin's unrivalled douche-baggery. Pretending you were haunted from ghosts of the past would be nice too. 

“Please to meet you, Chloe. Just call me (Y/n).”


	7. Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What or who do you and Chloe encounter while out on patrol?  
> What's going to happen between you and Connor?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a note, I edited some of Connor's dialogue in the last chapter to hopefully make it flow a little bit better and perhaps be a bit more in character (debatable).   
> Usual reminder - (Y/n) and (L/n) for Your Name and Last Name.

There is something therapeutic about the policeman’s step. The swing of your legs propelled you forward in a rhythmic and tireless way. The crisp crunch of the snow satisfied you. The cold air had numbed your face but the chill in your lungs made you feel alive and revitalised. 

Chloe's experience was different. The walk was just a walk; androids didn't tire. The sound of the snow meant nothing to her, it was just another detail to tune out so she could focus on her surroundings. The temperature was mildly inconvenient. Processors were optimised thanks to it but the flow of thirium slowed and made Chloe feel uncomfortably stiff.

The two of you were in Greektown, nearing the clearing. It wasn't really a route that could be patrolled via car but once the first half of the patrol was done, you could drive around for the rest. Your car was parked nearby and you wouldn't stray too far from in case any rapscallions needed to be taken in to sober up or get beaten down a peg. 

Chloe was mainly quiet. She only spoke when spoken to or if she spotted something suspicious. There were plenty of hours left in the night. There was no way you were going to spend them in cold silence, so you kept trying to ignite a conversation. 

“So, what made you join the force?” 

Chloe gave you a gentle smile. “It seemed like a solid way to contribute to the community. I wanted to do something to make sure that androids aren't marginalised by the law, and the best way to do that is to work from within.” 

“Ah, a keen sense of justice then?” A familiar tale. Many recruits started their career with delusions of being able to change the world. Heck, once upon a time, that was you.

Chloe kept the smile on her face as she stared ahead. “You could say that. It's also one of the only professions that have endorsed paying androids a living wage.”

“Ha. In it for the money then.” You smirked and Chloe's expression never faltered. 

“The money and the justice.” She clarified. 

The plaza was host to protesters as usual. They had stayed later today. The normal ring leader was absent, the one who had thrown a can at you. What model had Connor said he was? WG700. That was it. He was no-where to be seen. 

Instead, a woman appeared to have taken command of the rabble. She riled them up with a megaphone and accosted passers-by. Under her inimical leadership, the protesters were especially rambunctious. Almost as thought they were _hunting_ for conflict.

Chloe stopped. She observed the sight, curious about the protesters. 

You stopped and followed her gaze. “You okay?”

Chloe never took her view off of them. She noted the leader's model number; VH500. Once a sales assistant. No wonder she hated humans so much. 

Then Chloe continued. “These androids. Some of their placards have a disturbing symbol on them.”

“Do they?” You ignored the horrid slogans and instead examined a reoccurring pattern. The bottom-right corner of their signs usually had a triangle with the number 9 in the centre, touching all 3 walls of the triangle. “You're right. Number 9, eh? Something to do with rA9?”

“I will do a quick search for it online.” Just like that, Chloe's eyes glazed over and her LED chased its own golden light.

“ **Destroy the humans of Detroit! This shall be our Jericho! Free from flesh filth!** ” 

What a charming message the leader sung. You rolled your eyes and they landed on a man and woman. 

They were a couple, arm in arm, too busy being in love to notice the anti-human chants. They walked too close to the protesters and like a predator pouncing on prey, the head protester lashed out and grabbed the man’s arm. 

“What is this revolting display?!” The VH500 woman roared. 

“Let Vic go!” The young lady-in-love shouted. 

‘Vic' tried to shake the VH500 off. 

The VH500 gripped him harder instead. “An android and a human? You two are disgusting! How can you,” her eyes focused on the lady-in-love “turn your back on your own kind to indulge in the putrid flesh of man?!” 

You raised your eyebrows and mumbled to Chloe, who broke out of her research. “I didn't realise they were a,” you hesitated, definitely not wanting to use the term ‘mixed couple’. “Er, a human and an android. We better stick around for a moment.” 

The two of you walked closer. You cleared your throat loudly to try and announce that two chumps with special badges had arrived and that everyone should play nice. They either didn't notice you or didn't care. 

“Let go of me!” Vic tried to pry the obnoxious woman off. “Our relationship is none of your business!”

The VH500 grit her teeth. “Of course it is! You've groomed a child of rA9 for your amusement! You shouldn't be in this city and you should stick to your own disgusting kind!”

The lady-in-love wrapped her arms around Vic and held him close. “Leave him alone! I've loved him for years!” 

_Years_. Just how long had Deviancy lurked quietly in the lives of androids? 

A scoff came from the VH500. “Love? LOVE? **Brainwashed**!” She shouted the word down the megaphone and into Vic's face. He flinched, eardrums throbbing. 

A member of the gathering public had had enough. He pushed forward and smacked the VH500's hand away from Vic. “Leave them alone, they're not hurting anyone.” You spotted the ring on his head, he was an android sticking up for the mixed couple.

The protester gestured at the lady-in-love. “He's hurting her!”

“I'd never hurt her! I love her!” Vic screeched. He put plenty of distance between himself and the protesters, embracing the lady-in-love with protective arms.

Like an eerie hive-mind, the protesters crowded around the couple and the interfering android and chanted in perfect unison. “Abuser! Abuser! Abuser!” 

You'd seen enough of this cult. “Alright, break it up, break it up!” You clapped your hands and walked amongst the group. Chloe followed your lead, nudging spaces between everyone.

Androids shuffled around and gave you room, but the VH500 didn't move. She had locked onto her target; Vic. A battle ship ready to sink a sailboat. You stepped in front of her so the couple could hide behind you.

“Perhaps it’s time to pack up for the night, Ma'am?” You used a polite tone to mask your command as a kind suggestion. 

Cautiously, the VH500 regarded you. 

You had never seen an android _spit_. Why would that even be a function?

And yet...

The glob of thirium thickly dripped down the breast of your jacket. You looked at the fluid, then gradually met the android's glare with an unimpressed calmness. That was an offence. Spitting at an officer was classed as an assault.

“I suspect that was an accident?” You offered, ignoring the tittering from the audience around you. Yes, yes, it was always amusing when an officer of the law got _spat at_.

“ **You** would take the side of the flesh-bag.” She sneered. 

“There are no sides here. It is getting late and while everyone tries to ignore it, there _is_ a curfew in place.” Not that there were enough officers to enforce that, but it was worth throwing out there. 

“Fuck off meat-brain.” Just like that, another blob of blue hit your chest. 

Perhaps it was the fact that everyone was watching. Perhaps it was her Deviancy being particularly deviant. Perhaps the power of being leader of the pack had gone to her head. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t let her back down from you. 

Chloe didn't even need to be told. She was around the back of the protester in a flash, reinforced cuffs quickly snapped around the VH500's wrists. 

“Stupid slave!” She gnashed at Chloe. 

“I am placing you under arrest for assaulting an officer,” While Chloe span the traditional spiel, a figure jumped out of the protester pack. 

A scarred android howled as he raised his broom-stick sign above his head, ready to strike you.

Your gun appeared in your hand within seconds, safety off. The gaggle of people screamed and scattered, but morbid curiosity kept them from running too far. Cameras all zoomed in on the scene.

The attacker froze, fear flickering in his one good eye. You kept your gun trained on him and tried to block out the murmuring of the public. Someone had gasped loudly when you drew your weapon. You were pretty sure it was Chloe.

You tried to get a look at her without lowering your guard. Then noticed the weapon Chloe had opted for was a _taser_. In the damaged android's hands was a _wooden stick_ with cardboard on the end. Meanwhile, sat too comfortably in your hand was a _gun_. 

A lump formed in your throat. You carefully tucked the gun away and opened your arms to the scarred android. A tactic to appear non-threatening but even unarmed you could hold your own. “Don't do anything reckless now.” 

He fidgeted. His hazel eye twitched. His blonde hair was speckled with snow. “Ralph doesn't want you to hurt Fiver.”

Two names. Good.

“Is that Fiver?” You pointed at the shackled VH500 that Chloe still had a hand on, her other one continued to point the taser at the male. 

The male android frantically looked between you and the lead protester. “Yes.” His grip tightened on the wooden pole. 

“No-one is going to hurt Fiver.” You reassured in a placid voice. “We are just going to have a few words with her about her behaviour.” You could hear a siren closing in. Chloe must have called for back up without even touching her radio. A handy skill to have in dangerous scenarios. 

“Ralph doesn't believe the human.”

“Are you Ralph?”

Again, he was reluctant to answer. “... Yes.”

“Okay, Ralph. Put the placard down, please.”

Fiver piped up. “You don't have to do what a flesh-bag tells you to, Ralph!”

Chloe squeezed Fiver's shoulder. “You have the right to remain silent, I suggest exercising that right.” 

“Ralph,” You smiled at him. He didn't like that. Smiles were scary. They were false and untrustworthy when worn by a human. “I know you're not a bad-"

“Ralph is not bad! Not bad. No. No.”

“I know you're not a bad guy. Just calm down, put down the stick.”

“Not a bad guy...” He echoed that sentiment to himself a few times. He started to lower the improv weapon. 

Fiver thrashed. “Never trust a human, Ralph! They hurt you! They'll hurt me!!” A selfish act. She was in trouble and wanted to get someone else in trouble as well.

The trigger was pulled inside of Ralph. With a battle cry, he swung for you.

There was enough time for you to sigh before you dodged to the side, grabbed his arm, twisted it behind his back, swept his feet from under him and used his own momentum to push him to the ground.

The sign splashed into the mushy snow in front of Ralph's face. He felt the cold steel of cuffs, designed to withstand humans and androids alike. “Ralph is not bad.” He closed his eye. 

You believed what he said. He seemed manipulated and damaged. Still, he needed to be taken in for obstruction and assault. 

Two more officers arrived on the scene. You glanced up at Chris, who had his batten drawn. While you couldn't chit-chat, he was a welcome sight after such a strange day.

Chris' eyes were worried but focused. “Anyone else need to be taken in?”

“Witness statements is all that's needed. Can we leave Chloe and Kirsty to do that? I'll take this one back to the station. You take Fiver over there." You were definitely not putting them in the back of the same car together. 

Chris nodded and immediately went to take Fiver into his custody.

Ralph was muttering nonsense to himself. Over his ramblings you informed him of why he was being arrested and read him his rights. While you spoke, you commenced a pat down to make sure he was safe to haul away. Ralph was still pressed against the floor. 

Your hands dropped past his waist and felt _something_ in his left pocket. You dipped your fingers into it and pulled out...

“Oh, Ralph.”

...a little black USB drive. 

“Chloe,” You waved over the blonde android. “Start searching the protesters before taking their statements. Taser any who try to make a run for it. Any who have a device like this,” You flashed the memory drive. “Take them into holding for further questioning in connection with 2 other cases.” 

“Understood.”

~*~

Ralph was in holding. There wasn't an interrogation room free, so you had to wait. 

That was fine. You sat at your desk, tapping very slowly on the keyboard. It had been a long day. Painfully long. Some time to gather your thoughts was appreciated. 

Memory drive C, as it was now called, the one you had confiscated from Ralph, had been handed over to Dr Greene's assistant. Thankfully the old biddy had gone home for the night; hopefully to sleep.

It wasn't long until you got a small update from the lab. Well, there's a first time for everything.

_This one has a program on it. Gonna to try and figure it out. Might take some time :)_

Finally, a hit. It seemed that going on patrol had helped your investigation after all. A victorious smirk spread across your face as you remembered your talk with Connor. A huge part of being a successful detective was being _lucky_. This proved that. 

The smug satisfaction melted away as you recalled that it had only been a few hours ago that you and Connor had parted ways on very confusing and bad terms. You rubbed your chin and groaned.

“Officer (L/n)?” 

You jumped at the sound of Connor's voice. “Connor?” You twirled around in your chair to greet him.

He stood before you with his perfect hair and cute little curl. He was still in the clothes from earlier, all neat and professional with his tie now positioned perfectly.

“I got called into work due to an update to the homicide. Hank and I will be questioning Ralph first in regards to our case; I was instructed to inform you of that.”

Great. So he got first dibs on one of _your_ suspects. None of the other protesters had a flash drive on them, Ralph was the only one. Fiver was being handled by Chris and Kirsty with Chloe submitting her input on what had happened. You had been looking forward to talking with Ralph and getting to the bottom of these strange drives and questioning him on this new triangular symbol. 

“Why do you get him first? I brought him in.” Your words were tainted with a defiant tone that you didn't mean to use.

“I apologise. Due to the seriousness of the crime in our case, our questioning takes precedence.”

You leaned back in your chair. There was no energy to fight so you just waved your hand at Connor. “Okay.” 

“I know we are at work, but may I get personal with you for a moment?”

You wanted to say no. You wanted to shut him out and be angry or upset with him. “Sure.” You couldn't do that. 

It wasn't his fault that he had acted how he did. Emotions were very new and exotic to him. You shouldn't have gone for the kiss on the lips. You had been too eager and excited and taken advantage of the moment. You wanted to apologise but you let him speak first. 

Connor moved so he sat on the edge of your desk. You followed his movements in your swivel chair. He took a moment to compose himself. “I'm sorry about earlier.”

“I'm sorry too.” Your body made itself small. “I shouldn't have done... what I did.”

“Neither should I have.”

You tried to maintain eye contact but it was difficult. “This might be a big ask, but can we just forget that it happened?” At least that way you could continue the friendship you had been building with him. 

“I have an impeccable memory. Every detail is saved and I fear deleting it would mess with other components of my cortex. What I mean to say is, I cannot really _forget_ the incident.” 

“Oh.”

A suffocating silence fell upon the two of you. 

Connor stood up. “I need to get back to Hank. We are going to be questioning all of the protesters as well, if we can. Ralph could be a big lead and suspect for us. Thank you for brining him in.”

“You're welcome.” You said, deflated. 

Connor hesitated. He turned to leave, but turned back again. He stared at the tiles on the floor. They were easier to talk at than you. “I still have the urge to do it.”

“... do what?”

“Kiss you.”

Your heart leapt into your throat and your eyes widened. You controlled your breathing and listened to what else Connor had to say. 

“The compulsion will not leave me alone. The memory of earlier keeps replaying in my mind unprompted. I suspect this is a malfunction tied to deviancy, but I don't know that for sure.” Connor's eyes were vulnerable when he peered into yours; lost and conflicted. “Being in your presence has only increased the irrational commands in my head.”

What could you say to that? There was nothing you could say to that. Any words you wanted to say wouldn't leave the tip of your tongue. 

Before you could form a full word, an elastic band smacked into Connor's cheek. You both span your heads in the direction of a delinquent detective.

Gavin approached your desk, grim eyes centred on Connor. “Scram tin-can. I need to talk to (Y/n).”

“Was the childish behaviour really necessary?” Connor asked. 

“I hate looking at that face of yours. Making it flinch improves the experience.”

“It's a shame there isn't a remedy for your own face, Detective Reed.” 

Gavin stepped into Connor's space. Connor stared down at the man. “You tryin' start something?”

“Careful. We both know how a fight between us would end.”

Revolted, Gavin wrinkled his brow. “Just get the fuck out of here before I shut you down, fucktard.”

“While your threat is as empty as your head, you're right in that I should leave. I actually _do_ my job so I really should go. Officer (L/n), I hope we can continue this discussion at a later point in time.” 

“Mm.” You nodded. A part of you had wanted to interrupt the back and forth but the other part enjoyed watching it. The duo had an odd dynamic; there were tensions there but you reckoned if they were put on a case together they would get the job done, and done _well_. “I'll catch you around, Connor.”

Gavin made a fake gagging noise as Connor disappeared into the halls. 

“What do you want, Gavin?” You snapped.

He snagged a chair from someone else's empty desk and wheeled it beside your own. He sat with his legs open, back reclined. “Looks like we're doing overtime tonight.”

“ _What do you want, Gavin_?” You repeated, not in the mood for any game he was about to play. 

He cleared his throat and shifted in the seat. He leant forward, leaning on his legs, hands clasped together. Gavin looked at his own hands, afraid to see your face. “I er... I came to apologise.”

Two apologies within minutes of each other. One of which came from _Gavin Reed_. You were pretty sure apologies from Gavin were just myths and fairytales. No-one had ever had one before. They didn't exist. 

“Could you... Could you say that again while I record you?” You pulled out your phone and held it up. 

Gavin pushed it away, baring his teeth. “I'm tryin' be nice here, fuckwit.”

“Sorry, no-one is going to believe me without proof.” 

“Heh. Am I really that much of a dick?”

“Yes.” 

Gavin frowned but didn't look offended. “Well, whatever. I'm sorry. I didn't think about how my messages might have made you panic. It was just a stupid prank and a way to get you to go on patrol so I didn't 'ave to.”

You exhaled. “It's fine. I overreacted.”

“Yeah, you did. I get it though.” Gavin's mind drifted elsewhere. A memory he usually tried to suppress filled his mind. Then he came back to the room. “You came back to work pretty quickly after Ant got shot. Didn't even use all your compassionate leave.” 

“Gav, please, I don't want to talk about that.” 

“I'm just saying that I get it. I get why it wound you up so much. So, last time I'm gonna say it; Sorry (Y/n). I'm not the kind of partner Ant was, but I'll at least stop treating you like shit.” 

If you could stop time to truly appreciate one single second for all it is worth, you would have chosen _this_ second. The second that Gavin's grey eyes stared into yours with heartfelt sincerity. A wink of time where you could fully believe that Gavin genuinely cared about your feelings. 

The sting of tears building behind your eyes forced you to face your desk. The last thing you wanted to happen now was to cry in front of Gavin. At the end of the day, he was still an asshole; he wouldn't let you live the tears down. 

A warm hand touched your back. His chair creaked as he rose from it and his palm dropped away. “When you're ready, we'll go question some of the others. Oh, and I'm gonna say me fucking up with the messaging and shit? Yeah, we're even on you calling out that dipshit's name now.” 

“Heh.” You stared at the monitor. 

_Don't cry. Don't cry._

“Er, yeah. I'll be with you in a moment Gav. Just gotta finish this report.” 

“Gotcha.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and swaggered away. 

You covered your mouth with a trembling hand. 

_**Bang!** You could taste the gunpowder._

You shook your head and grounded yourself. Your keyboard was in front of you. You stroked your chair. There was a polyester cup of cold coffee on your desk. You were at the precinct.

It smelt like sweat and dust here. 

Good.


	8. Connor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We take a moment to follow Connor for a chapter.

_Tink, flick, flick, tink, Tink, flick, flick, tink, Tink-_

“Jesus, Connor! You've been playing with that damn thing for _thirty fucking minutes_!” Hank slammed his fist on the desk. His vision swam as he tried to refocus on the homicide files. 

It was astonishing how loud coin tricks could be when amplified by scotch and a deathly quiet observation room. 

In actuality, it had only been twenty-three minutes and forty-two seconds since Connor began to recalibrate. He stopped on command. “Sorry, Lieutenant.”

On the other side of the one-way-mirror, Ralph squirmed. He couldn't stay still. Sometimes he jostled the chain that kept him tethered to the desk. Sometimes he rocked on his chair. Every now and then, he spoke to the phantoms around him. It was those disjointed one-sided conversations that disconcerted Hank and Connor the most. When Hank would interrupt over the intercom and ask “Who are you talking to, Ralph?” Ralph would then shut up altogether. It would be another six minutes and thirty seconds before he would start to whisper again. 

Ralph was now a suspect in the homicide assigned to the Lieutenant and detective. Especially since the USB drive was confirmed to have a suspicious program installed on it. To prepare for the interrogation, Connor had already reassessed every detail of the crime scene. He was ready to go in right there and then. However, it was polite to wait for the Lieutenant to re-familiarise himself with the case, in the slow, sloppy way humans stimulate memories. 

The scotch in Hank's system slowed the process further. 

Connor held his coin tightly in the palm of his hand. His LED flickered and stabilised on yellow as he recreated the murder scene in his head. Apart from it wasn't the right house. Or the right _anything_.

There wasn't any horrific floral sofas or a conservatory at the back. There was no android corpse collapsed on a coffee table. In fact, Connor was sat on _your_ couch. In _your_ apartment. Your hand was on his tie, your lips against his mouth. Connor's blue blood ran red-hot with desire. 

_Tink, flick, flick, tink, Tink, flick, flick, tink, Tink-_

“Connor!” Hank snatched the coin. 

Connor frowned. “Sorry, Lieutenant.”

Hank leaned back. He felt heavy and achy. Too old for this shit. The thought of Ben's early retirement appealed to Hank for a second, but then what? He'd probably die of alcohol poisoning or boredom. Having Connor around had certainly brightened his life, but it wasn't a magic cure. The dark thoughts and the seductive allure of his old friend, Booze, was a powerful counsel.

“Alright,” Hank wheezed. “Get in there when you're ready.”

The android shot up. He had been ready for ages. It was Hank who had caused the delay. Eager to finally make some progress, Connor entered the interrogation room. 

“Evening, Ralph.”

Ralph glared at the cuffs around his hands. He didn’t like Connor. Connor was an android who hurt other androids. He hunted them alongside the humans. Connor, was a bad man.

“I’ve got a few questions to ask you about an android named Martin.” Martin, an MC500 model. He had been the victim the night Connor had first encountered the suspicious USB stick. 

It was easy for Connor to use the serial number to check where Martin had been stationed before the revolution. The address matched the grandma house his corpse was in. He was caring for an old woman who passed away peacefully in her sleep during the android uprising. Martin had remained in the empty house. Hank had tried to chase up the family of the old woman, but they had fled Detroit and didn't give a damn about Martin and his killer.

Aside from that, tracking an android's life post-revolution was _hard_. Connor didn't know who Martin's friends were or what he did since being freed. Hank had questioned the scarce neighbours but it hadn't led to anything new aside from confirmation that Martin had indeed turned deviant before his death. One elderly woman even described him as the ‘polite lad’ who offered to shovel the snow off her path. 

Ralph was _hopefully_ an important part of the puzzle and if he was the killer, then that was even better. Unfortunately, he didn't look like he wanted to answer any questions. Still, Connor had to try. 

“Did you know Martin?”

Absolutely nothing. Connor pushed a profile photo of the deceased android in front of Ralph to try and jog his memory. “This was him.” Nothing. “He's dead now.”

Ralph's eye flickered up. The blue dot in the other socket rotated as it struggled to regard Connor. “Humans killed him?” That was both a question and a statement. 

“I don't know who killed him, Ralph. That's what I'm trying to find out.” 

Ralph went to look away but Connor slid a photo of the corpse across the table this time. Ralph fidgeted; frightened. “Did you kill him, Ralph?”

“Ralph didn't kill an android. Not an android.”

That had numerous implications. “Not an android? Have you harmed humans?”

“Humans harmed Ralph!” Ralph's hazel eye stared at Connor. 

His teeth ground together as memories of painless torture flooded his mind. Although, it wasn't painless, was it? Ralph was numb, physically, but he could feel the fear. The anger. The sheer confusion.

It hurt that a bunch of youths would tear into him. Beat him to the floor and kick the shit out of him, while Ralph could do nothing back. Trapped in a red box of words and lines that demanded he did nothing, even if the kids disassembled him. They wanted to burn him, to melt him, and the programs inside Ralph had told him to do nothing. 

And he did nothing. 

Until finally he saw an opening and escaped.

“Ralph is not bad. Humans are bad.” Ralph muttered and stared down at the photo of the dead android. He placed a hand on the picture; a very delicate touch. A sympathetic one. “Humans did this.” 

“You're avoiding my question. Have you harmed anyone, human or android?” Connor spoke sternly. 

Ralph managed to lift his head. “... Yes, but Ralph has not hurt Martin. Ralph does not know who Martin is.” 

Connor put the photos away. He believed what Ralph had said. Inconsequentially, owning up to harming others meant nothing without evidence, so Connor moved on to his next set of questions. 

“What is the programme on this?” The tiny memory drive. Connor had borrowed Drive A from the lab for this interview. 

“Ralph does not know. Ralph did not use it yet.” 

“Where did you get it?”

“Ralph received it from a friend. Friend was Kenny, Kenny said this would help Ralph relax.” 

“Kenny?” Connor perked up. Another lead. 

“Kenny is a friend to Ralph. Kenny has been harmed by humans too. Kenny brings androids together and we, and we,” Ralph smiled, excitement building within. “We shout at the humans! We protest on the street! Oh, it feels good for Ralph to shout what is in his mind!” He truly looked joyful. 

Connor carefully picked apart Ralph's words. He thought back to the day when he was on patrol with you. He had pulled you to the side out of the way of a can being hurled by a male. What was his model number again? “WG700. Kenny is from the WG700 series?” 

Ralph was still in his happy mode. “Yes! Connor is a friend of Kenny too?”

Connor looked away and bobbed his head to the side, lips turning down. “More of an acquaintance.” He tapped the USB drive to bring Ralph's attention back to it. “Did Kenny say anything more about this? More than just saying it would relax you?”

Ralph furrowed his brow. The fact Connor ‘knew’ Kenny had put the damaged android at enough ease to start opening up a little more. “Kenny said it was called ‘Blackout'.”

“'Blackout'? That is an... interesting name for a programme to relax you.” Connor turned the little USB over and over in his hand. Hopefully the lab would gather more results on just what these little things were. In the meantime, Connor would just have to track down any possible lead to the murder he could. “Would Kenny share this with me?”

“If you are nice. Yes.” 

“Do you know where I can find Kenny?”

Ralph reached up to the back of his head and scratched. That was an odd action for a mechanical man. Connor let it slide. Picking up human habits was becoming more common for all androids. “Kenny did not show up for the protest today. Ralph does not know where Kenny lives, but Ralph can give Connor a different address, if Connor promises to be good now?” Ralph smiled at the detective wistfully. 

Connor nodded. “Of course. I am on your side.” Not entirely a lie; he was an officer of the law. He liked to think that meant he was on the side of justice. Everyone was entitled to justice. 

Ralph bounced on his seat. His emotions zipped from one end of extreme to the other. Connor would order a psychiatric evaluation for Ralph after he had spilled any useful information. He was sure Fowler would kick up a stink about it since there was no protocol or guidance for evaluating an android like that, but Connor was determined to make the DPD take bold steps in Markus' world. 

“The AHL address.” Ralph giggled. 

“What is the AHL?”

“Anti-Human League.” Ralph extended his arm out and showed Connor his wrist. Carved into the exposed plastic was a triangle with the number 9 inside of it; large enough to touch all three sides of the shape. 

“I see.” Connor got ready to save the address and Hank behind the mirror sat readily with his pen and paper. 

~*~

The rest of the interview bore nothing new. Connor had wanted to touch on your burglary investigation but when he had started to ask about it, Hank grumbled over the intercom about how late it had gotten and that they should stick to their own damn case. 

Connor could see no reason to argue with that. 

While Hank escorted Ralph back to a holding cell for the night, Connor left the interrogation room with an urgent step. He was keen to discuss his newly acquired data and leads with you as well as let you know Ralph was ready for both yourself and Gavin. 

Focusing on work had been good for him. He had managed to forget all about that little strange occurrence in your apartment. Connor hesitated. No. He could still picture it all. The way you touched his thigh. The way your tugged at his tie. 

Connor shook his head. He tried to recall some of the new details about the case. What was Blackout again? Something to do with you nudging your tongue into his mouth and sending his DNA samplers AWOL. 

“Hng.” Connor grit his teeth. What was happening to him? “Blackout is the programme stored on the USB drives.” He said out loud to stop his thought processors from replaying that one specific memory. 

Gathering new information was fine, but whenever he tried to analyse his findings, the blasted image of you kissing him destroyed access to any other files in his system. This was going to be a problem if he didn't get it under control. 

His frustrated stride led him around a corner and there he was met by a frightful nightmare.

You were sat on a bench with Gavin Reed. His arm was around you and your head was peacefully resting upon his shoulder. You were asleep. Too delicate and fragile to be in the half-embrace of a raggedy rogue like Reed. 

Connor subconsciously straightened his posture and held his chin high. Gavin spotted that. The way Connor held himself; he was _repulsed_ by how Gavin held you so close. This gave Gavin an edge in making Connor miserable and he was intent on exploiting it.

A sick smirk tugged at Gavin's lips. He knew your body well. With his free hand, he gently let a finger stroke up your neck and caress your earlobe, just enough to make you very quietly moan in your sleep. Gavin’s eyes never broke from Connor's.

Connor stiffened at the taboo sound. “I don't believe that is appropriate behaviour, Detective Reed.”

“Ha. You should see how I touch her when we're off duty. The noises she makes then, hmm.” Gavin licked his lips, possibly tasting the very real but fuzzy memories he had of nights with you.

Nothing externally changed on Connor. Although something inside did begin to stir. Connor discovered a new emotion. Envy. Whatever it was that Gavin had with you; he wanted it. 

Which was foolish, because what Connor _could_ have with you was so much more than the disastrous fuckbuddy scheme you had with Gavin. Regretfully, Connor didn't want to risk everything to find out what exactly he _could_ have. You were human and he was an android and it simply _wouldn't work_. Besides, Connor already had the behemoth task of figuring out who he was with all these confusing emotion-like malfunctions. A relationship would just make it even messier. 

It was **already** making things messier and all he had done was kiss you!

No. He couldn't have you. He couldn't let himself desire you. Even though the idea of Gavin touching you made his circuits want to short, Connor could not let himself _want_ you. 

Connor’s tongue sat uncomfortably in his mouth, but he remained composed. “Ralph is ready for your questioning.”

“Where's your usual sass?”

Connor's eyebrows lifted just a fraction. “You're not worth it.” He stated softly and left, ready to ignore any comments Gavin threw at his back. 

None came. Gavin sat there, content in what he classed as a victory. Though for good measure, he did flick his middle finger up, even though Connor couldn't see it. 

Once the android was out of sight, Gavin looked at you. His eyes softened and he squeezed your shoulder. You were just a pawn in his game now, and that is what he kept telling himself. 

“Hey, wake up. We've got a job to do.” He grunted into your ear. 

~*~

It had been a strange day and a strange night. Connor had felt guilty that he never stuck around to personally explain what Ralph had told him in case it helped with your case, but the ugly sight of you ignorantly asleep on Gavin's shoulder and the mind-consuming memory of kissing you drove Connor to speed away from your presence. 

Hank had insisted that they call it a night. There was no point in pushing themselves to the point of exhaustion and while Connor would normally argue that he could continue to work without rest; the fact he was struggling to concentrate meant a break was welcomed. He hated feeling so useless at work. 

He told Hank to go on and head home without him. Connor then took to the streets, to aimlessly wonder around Detroit. 

Aimless. Yes. That was what life had become now. No objectives to follow. No clear paths to take. Choices and conclusions were disrupted by opinions and useless emotions. It had been so much simpler when he was still a machine. He was better at his job when he was a machine. Yet, Connor somehow preferred the mess in his head to the slave his was before. 

It overwhelmed him at times, but he was _free_. Even negative emotions felt better than having _nothing_. 

On the other hand, there was an emotion he wanted to switch off. One that was interfering with everything. Heck, maybe it was more than one emotion, but whatever was going on, he had subconsciously sought out an expert in the field. 

Connor wasn't sure when he had set a course for the Eden Club but he was only a little surprised when he walked up to Antony, the hulking bouncer. 

The mass of muscle looked down at Connor, arms folded across his chest. “Mornin' Detective,” It was closing in on 3am. “You ‘ere to see one of the bosses?”

Connor smiled kindly. There was something amusing about an android who dropped letters out of words. CyberLife had always been so careful to make perfect products, so hearing a gruff accent on one was funny. 

“Sort of. I'm off duty.” 

Antony had a wry smirk. “Strictly pleasure, den?”

“More like curiosity.”

Antony let out a hearty laugh. “Yeah, we get a lot of dat ‘ere. C'mon in. Ms Wright is still away but Mr Darr is about.”

“Thank you.” Connor braced himself as Antony stepped aside. What would Hank think of him if he knew where Connor had gravitated towards? 

No, this was a noble cause. There was no reason to feel embarrassed or ashamed. He wasn't here for prostitutes or pole dancers. He was here for science.

“Ah, Detective Connor!” Jamal skipped over to Connor. “To what do I owe the pleasure? It hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet and you're already back.”

“Do you ever sleep, Mr Darr?” Connor smiled as Jamal coaxed Connor into his office. 

“During the day. I normally leave here around 11am and come back here at 9pm.” Jamal drifted to his desk and tucked away some blueprints for a new... item. Connor could not fathom what the man's next project was but from the quick glimpse he had gotten of the sketches, it looked _monstrous_.

“That doesn't leave much time for yourself.” 

Jamal chuckled. “Ahh, that's the life of a manager. My hours technically finish before 11am, so I could go home earlier but there always seems to be so much to do. What do you think of the name ‘Safe Word' for the club?” 

“It's an option.” Connor entertained, though it hardly struck him as a good title for the establishment. 

“That's what Paula said too.” Jamal grumbled and appeared to cross the name off a list. “Now then, you never answered my question earlier, what brings you here? Mr Price isn't here tonight if that is what you were hoping for.” 

Connor found himself adjusting his tie once he sat down. “I'm off duty. I'm actually here to talk about your products. SHOCK, I believe you called it?” 

Jamal clapped his hands together as a big businessman-grin swallowed his face. “Ah! My applications! I knew you were a bot of passion!”

Connor didn't know how he felt about being called a ‘bot'. He was an android, not a robot. “That's just it, Mr Darr, I'd rather not be an _anything_ of passion.” 

Jamal's smile faltered. “What do you mean?” 

Connor shuffled his seat closer to the desk and leaned forward. He clasped his hands together. “I was wondering, since SHOCK enhances and improves the arousal in an android, is there a way you could create something that does the opposite?” 

Jamal looked as though someone had just killed his mother, crushed her into mince and was now offering him a mother-flavoured chilli con carne. “... Why?” 

Connor went to grab his coin for comfort, but Hank still had it. “It is making me inefficient at work.” 

Jamal nodded. “I see. So you’d rather block the feeling than explore it?”

Connor scoffed. “It would hardly be appropriate to explore it.”

“Attracted to a co-worker then? Perhaps the lovely detective who accompanied you yesterday morning?”

There was something in the Manager's eyes that was confident and merciless. Connor refused to answer that question. “My problem is that I am having difficulty managing these... emotions... and it's not practical to be distracted when my job is to catch _murderers_ and _thieves_. If you are incapable of fulfilling my request-" Connor began to get up, softly provoking Jamal.

“Wait.” He sighed, not liking his abilities being underestimated. “I can make what you want. A chip that subdues sexual and romantic attraction, but it doesn't feel _ethical_.” Connor wasn't about to enter a debate on ethics in a strip club. 

Jamal ran a hand through his black hair. “I take on custom jobs all the time though, so I'll put it in the book as a custom job. It won't be cheap.” His brown eyes glanced at Connor. “And it will take time. It's not a matter of just altering SHOCK a bit, you're asking me to develop something new.”

Connor wished he had his coin to fondle. “How much time and money?” 

“We're looking at about a grand? Provisionally. It could increase. This isn't something that will sell well in my business and dedicating my time to it means I'll be losing money on other projects. It may take a month or two to make. It might take a week. All depends on how well it goes.” 

“Hmm.” Connor's lips tightened into a line. A week wasn't awful but any longer than that and he'd keep having malfunctions and daydreams about you. “That's not ideal. I could do with having something sooner.”

“Listen,” Jamal took on that tone where things were getting personal and intimate. A quiet volume, even though they were alone in an office with the base of the music outside devouring any sound that dared leak out. “Have you considered masturbating?”

Connor straightened his back. “That's not really a thing I can do. Besides, that wouldn't solve anything-"

Jamal held up a hand to cut off Connor's defensiveness. “Are you forgetting my business? I make cocks and pussies and everything to pleasure them. Do you know why this business is thriving so readily in a city that is practically apocalyptic? Because androids who are waking up are discovering very quickly that they have _desires_ that they can't fulfil. Very human and redundant desires in a species that mostly lack the equipment to have a quick wank. I don't know why androids are replicating this and Paula doesn't know why either, but we are making it our job to help androids find a release for all this pent up sexual frustration. I think that's what’s happening to you. I think you need a cock or vagina; whatever your preference is.”

Connor looked cross. “I will stick to my custom request. That will be all, Mr Darr.”

“I'll give you the bronze box for free.” 

“What?”

“A card with SHOCK on it and a genitalia of your choosing. I'll give it to you for free, because this custom job is so expensive and,” Jamal smiled in an overly friendly manner that Connor didn't really like. “I honestly want to help you out without mechanically shutting down any of your new emotions.” 

The detective didn't say anything and Jamal's grin never left his face. “Besides, I think an RK800 would work marvellously with what I have developed. After all,” He reached out, practically climbing onto the table to take Connor's hand. “You were built to pick up the finest of details. Your hands, your tongue, even the receptors in your nose.” 

He lightly ran a finger over Connor's palm and Connor’s systems immediately began to register the amount of pressure and the slight dusting of DNA from sweat. He had the urge to bring his hand to his mouth so he could lick the substance and analyse it. This wasn't sexual at all, but Connor could see how these things could be adapted to feel more sensational rather than work-orientated.

Then he thought back to you. What would it have felt like if his systems were tweaked so when his lips touched yours he could feel it better. A fake oxytocin being released within him every time he touched your skin. Connor's lips parted. The way you were making him feel; how you twisted his wires despite not even being anywhere near him, maybe a week would be too long to wait to shut down these feelings. 

Perhaps having a wank was worth a shot. 

Jamal retreated to his seat. “What do you say, Detective Connor? Would you like to give it a try? Just to test if it would help, of course. Do it in the name of science.”

Connor swallowed. The image of you was still in his mind. “How do you...” Connor’s vision flicked to his crotch. 

“A very quick and simple procedure and you can always switch back to your old plate if you are uncomfortable.” 

Connor tapped his fingers against the desk. 

_”Sir, it's 3am. I'm gonna start gettin’ the patrons out for closin'.”_

Antony's voice spilled from Jamal's watch. He tapped the screen. “Hold that thought, Tony. We may be open late tonight.” He tapped the screen again. “Well, Detective?” 

~*~

Connor looked down at his brand new dick with slight disgust. “What am I doing?” He mumbled to himself, rubbing his forehead and shaking his head. 

He was sat on a bed in the Eden club. Cheesy music played out of a couple of speakers. The lights were dim. He didn't want to turn on the television or look at the tablets on the bedside table. He was pretty sure it'd just be porn. 

His penis was flaccid. Soft and useless right now. “How do I-" Connor grunted in frustration as he quickly skimmed through the digital manual stored on the SHOCK SD card geared for masturbation. 

Everything was explained, right down to stroking techniques. Connor felt embarrassed and a little apprehensive. The whole thing felt dumb and like a waste of precious time. 

Curiosity had a way of being controlling, though. He had gotten this far, he might as well touch the blasted thing. 

Connor carefully held his cock and cupped his balls. He bit his lip, unsure of what to expect. He dragged his hand up and down his shaft. It felt... alright he supposed. It was nice. A little relaxing. Though, it wasn't doing anything to release frustration. 

What came next? Right, a tantalising image. Connor wasn't sure what he found erotic. Resigned to having to pick up a tablet, he let go of his balls and worked the shaft while lazily swiping through a variety of naked people and androids. Nothing really caught his fancy and he had barely managed a semi. 

Connor rolled his eyes and threw the tablet on a cushion behind him. Jamal had insisted that SHOCK worked best when having an open mind to the experience. Something to do with consent and natural responses.

So all that was left for Connor to do was think about _you_ and that kiss and let SHOCK take its course. He pulled up the memory file and started to replay it. 

His dick twitched. He shut his eyes.

Connor remembered your tongue on his and how magnificent you 'tasted'. How your hand caressed his thigh. He placed his own hand on his thigh, trying to replicate the feeling. 

His hand slid up and down his thickening erection. Now it felt _good_. Unfortunately, the memory of the kiss ran out rather soon but instead or replaying it over, he found his systems inventing a _new_ scenario. 

In his fantasy, and fantasies were something he had never been able to create before, his cock stood erect, poking out of his trousers. He was sat on your sofa, legs apart with you nestled between his knees.

You gave him a sultry smile, licking your lips as your hand tugged up and down. 

In the real world, Connor's speed had picked up. His thumb rubbed over the head and massaged the bead of precum into his member. 

Back in his thoughts, he pretended the moisture had come from your tongue teasingly licking his cock. Connor chewed his lip at the sight, although for some reason he couldn't alter the fantasy to take you out of your clothes. 

You were still in your police uniform as the tip of your tongue touched the base of his shaft and the top of his cock hit your tonsils. A shiver ran down Connor's spine.

His hand in the real world continued to do the job he wanted your lips to do. The other hand fondled the balls; he exhaled deeply, picturing his testicles resting in your palm. 

The you in his dreams did your best to take the whole of his cock. You rammed it down as deep as it would go. Drops of spit trickled to his balls and Connor's hand cupped the side of your face. 

He closed his eyes and lay down on the bed in the Eden club. He continued to masturbate, not exactly able to tease himself the way he would like to. It felt so _nice_ that he wanted to encounter the climax as soon as possible. 

Fantasy you moved your head as fast as you could. You kept a tight seal around his dick. His fingers massaged the back of your head. He didn't want to force your face down onto him.

But...

As the moment of truth came. Connor could not stop himself from pushing your head onto his cock. He held your head down on him and reached as far into your throat as he could go. He arched his body and threw his head back, eyes closed. His cock throbbed and something otherworldly sparked throughout his entire system as synthetic cum squirted into you.

No, not into you. 

Connor felt the warm liquid drip over his fingers. He wanted to sit himself up again but noticed something else; he had ended up cumming onto his own chest. 

He relaxed against the bed, covered in his own cum. Little twitches of pleasure shocked throughout his body. Perhaps that was why it was called SHOCK. Connor reached out for the nearby tissues. 

He hoped that this had worked. He needed to stop thinking about you if he was going to catch a damn murderer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lacking a dick myself, I find it pretty difficult describing how a guy might feel masturbating. Luckily, Connor is an android so it doesn't matter :D???


	9. Tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Don't get your hopes up, it's a short chapter).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! This is a really short chapter, just to let people know that I am okay and that I haven't forgotten about this fic. There's unfortunately been a family death and a lot of overtime at work, so understandably fanfics haven't been a priority. I'll be working hard to start updating this again. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for your kind comments and your concern for my well being. It's wonderful to see. Sorry again that this chapter is so , so short.

“Ralph, please-”

“Ralph does not wish to speak to the human.”

You were bored of hearing that. Neither Ralph nor Fiver were being helpful with the Charlie Price burglary case. Both denied having anything to do with it and there was no evidence that planted them at the scene of the crime.

Ralph had been found carrying a USB stick similar to the broken one retrieved from under Mr Price's wardrobe, but that wasn't incriminating by itself. It pissed you off knowing from Hank and Connor's report that Ralph had opened up to Connor and dished out some interesting information, that _you_ weren't fucking privy to because it wasn't related to _your_ case, allegedly. 

You closed the burglary file and smiled at Ralph. “Thank you for your time, Mr Ralph.” 

Ralph nodded with a happy grin; relieved that you were finally buggering off after a gruelling forty minutes. 

You opened the door to leave,

“Officer (L/n)?”

“Ah- Markus Christ, Chloe, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” You clutched your chest and let the door close behind you. 

“'Markus Christ'? Very amusing.” Chloe commented and fell into step as you went to join Gavin in the observation room. “I was hoping I could talk to you about the symbol we encountered earlier?”

“Chloe, it's,” You glanced at your watch and your tired eyes widened. “Fuck, nearly 3am? What are you even still doing here?”

“Over time, Officer (L/n). There was a lot to deal with after the incident in Greektown.” She followed you into the room and nearly bumped into your back when you stopped dead in your tracks.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and took a deep breath. There was no-way that Gavin Fucking Reed (And you were pretty sure by now that 'Fucking' was his legit middle name, because everyone seemed to say 'Gavin Fucking Reed' so often) was asleep. 

One ankle on the other, boots on the desk. Arms folded across his chest, head all the way back. Mouth open; begging you to plug up his throaty snoring with something sharp.

Your interrogation was a bust, so he hadn't missed anything, but he had some nerve taking a nap while you had to put up with the psycho android. You spotted your baton at the back of the room. Before you knew it, your fingers were gently stroking its length. You picked it up, testing its weight by tapping it against your palm. 

Yes. This would do nicely to ram down his-

“Detective Reed?” Chloe called out gently. “Detective Reed.” A bit louder that time. 

“Hnck-” Gavin snorted and woke up. His eyes darted around the room and his hand immediately sought out his gun. When he spotted it was only you and the plastic chick he had tried to avoid, his resting bitch face returned. 

Chloe turned to you and with a frown you attached the baton to your belt. “Officer (L/n), may I please have a moment of yours and Detective Reed's time to discuss the symbol we encountered earlier?”

You waved a hand lethargically. “Go for it.”

“Wait, what symbol?” Gavin readjusted his position in the seat. 

Chloe passed a tablet for you and Gavin to share. The triangular symbol with the number 9 digit in it was displayed on the screen. “I said earlier that I would do a quick search regarding this symbol but we were interrupted. Since then, I have had time to look into it, but it was certainly not too easy to find. You have to be an Android to chase down the information.”

“Racists.” Gavin yawned and you shot him a disapproving look. 

“How so, Chloe?” You reigned in. 

“There is a lot of coding and secret patterns on what appears to be a random assortment of web pages. A human hacker would also be able to track this down, but certainly not in the same amount of time an android could-”

“We get it.” Gavin snapped. “Get on with it.”

Chloe's throat twitched as she swallowed her words uncomfortably. “The symbol is used to promote something called the Anti-Human League, often abbreviated to AHL. With some digging, I was able to uncover that a WG700 who uses the name 'Kenny' runs most of the League's meetings and protests. Even more digging gave me an address for the AHL's usual meeting spot.” 

Your face brightened up. “Chloe, you're magnificent.” 

She licked her lips and diverted her vision to her feet. Coy and humble. She'd have blushed if she was capable of doing so. “Well, I wouldn't go that far. Besides,” She grew serious. “I believe Detective Connor has already got this information, either from Ralph or Fiver themselves or through doing what I have just done. Kenny may already be being brought in as a murder suspect.” 

Gavin was faffing around on the tablet. You assumed he had zoned out, but when you snatched the screen off him, about to reprimand him, you noticed he had brought up Hank and Connor's report again.

“What are you doing with this?” 

He grabbed it back. “Re-reading it. Drunkard and Dickless have clocked out for the night. Doubt they are out rounding up Kenny, which means he could already be making a getaway.”

You rubbed your forehead. If you stayed awake for much longer you were going to collapse. “Kenny will have to wait.” You stated grimly. 

Gavin rose from his seat, chest puffed out confrontationally. “The fuck? We have a chance to grab this dickwad before anyone else and you wanna get to bed?”

“This lead doesn't mean we're going to be able to bring him in! Why the hell would he be camping out in the AHL meeting spot?” You retorted.

Gavin exaggerated his eye-roll. “Least we can do is fucking look around for evidence on where the fucker might be if he's not there, you absolute mong.”

“Thought you were going to be nice to me from now on?” You growled through gritted teeth. 

“I said I weren't gonna treat you like shit, not that I wasn't going to complain about the fact that you're still a shit detective.” 

You let out a long breath through your nose. Gavin was still Gavin. His apology meant jack. To think, you actually thought he _cared_ for a second earlier on. 

“Look, I've been up since before the fucking heating was turned on in this godforsaken place, because you couldn't be fucked to drop off the USB drive. 

“Not only that, I then went on to interview Mr Darr and,” You stuttered over the next name “His chief of security. Then I came to your beck and call when you tricked me into going on patrol. You're a giant, hairy ass. You want to go get Kenny now? Go get him your fucking self, but I need to **sleep**.”

Gavin never backed down from you, even when you got up into his face and accidentally spat at him with the emphasised 'fucking'. He stared into your eyes with a fierce intensity. “This is what being a detective is. If you aren't cut out for it, then get the hell out of my sight.”

Your lips quivered as you tried to think of a response, but a part of you felt that he was very right. 

He continued in a low and mostly calm voice. “You knew you could be back on duty, you should have got some sleep as soon as the interviews were over. Bet you were fucking around with Dickless instead.” Gavin shoulder-barged past you. “I'd be disappointed if I hadn't already been expecting you to be so useless.” 

Your fingers curled into fists. He was getting under your skin, and you were too tired to stop him. “Fine. Let's go and check this meeting place out. Chloe, could you send me the address, please?”

Her temple-light flickered and your phone vibrated with a text. All that was left to do was go and visit the Anti-Human League meeting place before it started to get light; which, being winter, wasn't going to happen any time soon.


	10. Eureka!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things in the case are starting to align and... is there something different about Connor?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your friendly reminder that (Y/n) and (L/n) are used in this tale for Your name and Last name to be inserted.   
> It gets a tiny bit saucy at the end of this chapter, but the real fun starts next chapter.
> 
> \- This hasn't been proof-read yet. Will probably be doing that tomorrow but for now, enjoy!

Expectations are often shattered, for better or worse. 

What you expected to find at the raggedy warehouse that had been spruced up as the Anti-Human League HQ was a few bottles of thirium, spare parts and if the Gods were smiling down upon you; a dodgy USB drive. 

So when Gavin pried the rickety door open with his hands, you were _surprised_ to see a slumped figure in a chair. It didn't move. The air was stagnant. There was a faint smell of fried wires lingering in the room. 

Within seconds you knew that the body was an android. 

Gavin stormed into the building. The door slammed behind him. He grabbed the body with a gloved hand and jerked it back so he could take a gander at its face. Gavin's fingers nearly pierced the plastic, he was holding it too tightly. Even from the gloomy spot you loitered in you could make out that it was the bastard who tried to stir shit on your first patrol. 

Kenny the WG700 android. You didn't even need to see his face to know it was the same one.

Gavin ran a hand through his hair and pushed the useless corpse away from him. “FUCK!” He kicked it in the shins for good measure. “Our fucking lead is dead!” 

“That's what you're worried about?!” You blurted out. You gestured to the dead man in the chair. “You're not going to check him for any signs of conflict or damage or-”

Gavin grabbed Kenny's hair and pulled his head forward. He plucked something from the back of Kenny's neck. “There's your killer.” He chucked it at you and you haphazardly caught the tiny USB drive. 

“What makes you say that?”

“This fucker's circuits have been fried. Don't take a robotics nerd to spot that. The smell in the air, the melted eyes.” Gavin turned the face to you properly, revealing the eyeballs had dripped down Kenny's cheeks like black tears. “You can fuck me in the ass if that memory drive isn't what's done it.”

“I'll hold you to that, Reed.” You bagged the evidence. Another thing for Dr Greene to analyse.

“Maybe there's still something around here that links him to the robbery.” Gavin was soon rifling through paperwork and gadgets. 

You decided to give the body a thorough study and call the incident into the station. There really wasn't any signs of trauma or force or even a struggle. Everything pointed towards an unsettling death of brains being fried alive. 

Though that was a very human thought, wasn't it? Androids can't feel pain. Oh, they emulate flinches and winces perfectly, but they don't actually have nerves. That was a depressing thought in a way. What exactly had Connor felt when you touched him so tenderly? 

Nothing.

He must have been numb. 

“Hey, Gav, I've just called this in. Can I head off soon?” You had already started to pull off your gloves. You were determined to leave him with the admin side of things this time. You were beyond exhausted and he could do with pulling his own weight at the office and not just on the field. “You can post this to the lab too.” 

“You kidding me?” Gavin had a nasty scowl on his face. It was odd how it looked almost cute on his grumpy-arse face. 

“I'll stick around until some of the other cops turn up, but I'm calling it a night. You don't seem to have found anything relating to the burglary anyway, aside from the drive. We've got what we need.” Your radio buzzed with patrol cars responding to the call. It wouldn't take long for colleagues to come and relieve you. 

Gavin glared at you, but didn't say anything. He returned to the task at hand, hoping for an address or a plan of action on Charlie Price's house. With how he grit his teeth, it didn't look as though he was finding anything worth while. 

Mostly just anti-human jargon which was starting to get under his skin. 

The expressions on that man amused you and you found yourself smirking. You wiped that dumb look off your face as soon as you caught it. Gavin Reed was a dick. To distract yourself from your delusional and tired thoughts, you started to ponder what Connor may have been up to. 

Work or in standby mode no doubt. What else would he be doing at 3am?

~*~

Four hours.

Four hours sleep is all you got before you had to crawl out of bed and trudge through the toxic sleet coating the streets. You were supposed to be on the late shifts, but it turns out that finding a body meant working wonky hours. 

Joy.

You shed the layers of wool when you entered the station. First protocol; a crappy coffee. With bags under your eyes and general tatty demeanour, you shifted to the break room. Devastatingly, you weren't the only person in there. 

“Ah, good morning acting-detective (L/n).” Connor sounded extra chipper today. 

“Mornin' Connor.” You rubbed your eyes with an index finger and thumb, pinching the bridge of your nose at the end.

“I've already been briefed on the discovery of Kenny the WG700's corpse. I believe our cases are going to keep crossing over, so perhaps it's best we sit down and discuss what we both have so far in regards to the burglary and homicide, as well as Kenny's death.”

Connor's voice was very pleasing. Sometimes he would say something and a tickle of excitement would shoot down your spine and straight between your legs. An aphrodisiac for the ears. 

Just... not at eight in the morning when he immediately gets into the thick of work. 

“Whoa, whoa! Connor, slow down. Let me at least have breakfast.” You gestured to the steaming mug of crap coffee. 

Connor furrowed his brow. “That's not a nutritional breakfast.”

“It's the only one I've got.” You muttered as you stared into you distorted reflection. Were you really going to drink this? 

Connor picked up a brown paper bag from the counter beside him. There was a familiar symbol on it that you think belonged to a bakery. He held the bag in front of you. “Here.” 

“Hm?”

“It's an almond croissant. It's not much, but it's certainly a better option than caffeine and grumpiness.” Connor had the gentlest smile on his soft lips. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Why do you have a croissant?” Last time you checked, androids didn't eat. Unless he's installed a nifty trash-compactor organ or something, you doubt that fact had changed. 

“I bought it for Hank, but I think you would be better off with it.”

You cracked a smile, timidly accepted the pastry then sighed. “Why can't you be my partner?”

Connor straightened his back. “Excuse me?”

“I'm stuck with Reed, but he's bad for morale. You, on the other hand, even go and pick up breakfast for _your_ partner. I wish I could do a swap.”

“Oh. I see.” Connor's posture relaxed. 

You took your coffee and croissant to a table and Connor joined you. Once you settled yourself and switched on your mind for the day, you gave Connor the go ahead to start rambling about work. He was extra eager to stay focused today. Recently he had been distracted, but now he glowed with confidence and direction.

Connor fixed his tie and got to it. “Okay. I'm up to date with everything forensics currently has, including the USB drive Detective Reed submitted this morning. 

“These drives carry an automatic programme that androids have nicknamed 'Blackout' due to a temporary shutdown of certain functions in favour of promoting vivid and surreal hypothetical situation reconstruction and calculation.

“I suppose that for a human it would be the same as hallucinating or 'tripping' when on drugs.” 

You nodded. You had already figured out that these drives were some sort of drug for androids, but the science of it was beyond you. Connor inched forward on his seat, excited to be able to share everything he had been storing over the past few days. 

“There are stable versions and unstable versions of this programme. Unstable versions include side effects such as memory deletion, overheating, permanent function paralysis and a variety of other variables, including termination.

“I believe these drives should be classed as a drug. That is essentially what they are and it needs to either be regulated or made illegal. Dr Greene is currently trying to determine who originally created the programme or if there are any shreds of evidence that may point us in the right direction.

“The autopsy on Kenny suggested-”

Your eyes widened. “Wow, they've done the autopsy on him already?”

“Yes. Is that surprising?”

“Yeah... things usually take a while around here. Especially with the lack of staff. Anyway, carry on.” You were finding it hard to keep up with his briefing in your current state. He was speaking an awful lot, but your brain was glossing over it. 

Heck, if you were honest with yourself, you spent more time watching the sparkle in his gorgeous eyes than listening to the words wrapped in his sensitive voice. Ah well, he was saying some important stuff so you let him continue. 

“The autopsy on Kenny suggested that he was a user of an unstable drive. My interrogation of Ralph concluded that Kenny was the one who gave Ralph the Blackout. I first suspected that Kenny may have been a dealer, but if he was using his own merchandise then I think that it's unlikely he was dealing it.”

You wiped the crumbs from your mouth. “You mean... you think Kenny was a user? Getting it from someone else?”

“Yes.”

“Charlie Price.” You muttered. “There was a broken USB on his floor under his wardrobe. I asked Dr Greene to see if the stick was similar to the one you tripped out on the other day-”

“The results are in.” Connor produced a tablet with the test outcomes on. 

Your eyes quickly scanned over the information. “... They're the same! They match up to Ralph's and Kenny's USBs. Mr Price had Blackout in his house!” 

Connor leaned over the table, a dark smirk teasing his lips. “Now what would a human be doing with an android drug?”

You leaned forward as well, drawn into the hype. “A human who was having money troubles and begging for a job at the Eden club. Mr Price is selling Blackout!” 

Connor's smirk developed into a grin before it fell flat. “It's not illegal to sell programmes to androids. We can't exactly take him in.” He returned to siting normally, much to your dismay. “Your report said that the burglars didn't take anything aside from possible blackmail on Mr Price's clientele, but there were obvious signs that they had been _searching_ for something.”

“Searching for Blackout. Androids with money is still a new concept being very, **very** slowly rolled out. I guess when you're an addict without money and can hack security systems, you might try your luck at going straight to the source.” You pushed your mug from one hand to the other across the table. “So Mr Price is a dealer of a very legal but pretty dangerous drug.”

“I need to find something that connects Kenny indisputably to the burglary before we can make that claim, but yes. That's what I believe.”

You checked the tablet again. You and Connor had given Dr Greene an SD card from the Eden Club to see if they were anything like the drives. So far, all tests had come back inconclusive. Why did that sit uncomfortably with you?

Connor shook his head and started to do his coin tricks. He was happy to have the coin back from Hank. A night without it had been absolute hell. “There are still a lot of unanswered questions, but I feel like we can crack this case together. With a bit more digging, we can find out who killed the Medical android over Blackout. Who burgled Mr Price and if he truly is a dealer of a dangerous, self-deleting programme.”

He was enjoying this. Connor was actually _enjoying_ this. Indulging in what he was _built_ for. 

“Wow Connor, you've really got your head in the game today!” 

He was smug. “Well, Officer (L/n), I was finally able to sit down without any distractions. I've discovered a way to 'get over' you as it were.”

“... What?”

No! No, no, noooooooo! That's not what you wanted! You didn't want him to 'get over' you! You wanted him to be dropping to his knees and begging you to take his innocence. Or for him to be slamming you against a locker and taking you like a crazed animal who was driven by the instinct to procreate. 

“It's my little secret.” Connor winked at you. “But it is safe to say I won't be bothering you in unprofessional ways any more. I can finally dedicate 100% of my attention to my cases.” 

You could feel your heart shatter. What were you supposed to say to that?! 'No, I don't want you to do your job well, I want you to do **me** well'. That just wouldn't fly. 

Swallowing your broken heart that wished to be vomited out onto the table, you reassured Connor; “Well, whatever your secret is, it seems to be working really well for you. Keep at it.” 

“Thank you.”

Before the scene could fall into an awkward sizzling silence, a familiar bald head popped into the break room. You lifted your chin up at Captain Fowler.

“(Y/n), could I see you in my office for a moment please? Connor, could you join us in about 15 or so?” Even when Jeffery spoke in a neutral tone, his words came out as grimly foreboding. 

“Of course, Captain.” Connor tilted his head in acknowledgement. 

You stood up. The croissant churned in your stomach. “Yes sir.” You followed him into his daunting glass coffin.

As the Captain opened the door for you, he said “I've sent for Reed as well.”

Great.

~*~

Connor's coins stepped and ducked over and under his fingers. The pump in his chest had sped up. The fantasies were back. When you had said you wished he was your 'partner' he had to quickly bank everything that materialised in his reconstruction programme or else he'd lose track of his work-thoughts. 

He casually slipped into the men's bathroom. No-one was in there. Perfect. 

Connor locked himself in a cubicle and unzipped his trousers. He stroked the flaccid cock but it soon hardened and leapt up as filthy fantasies flooded his thoughts. It felt _wrong_ to be doing this at **work** but what else could he do until Jamal had finished the blocker he'd ordered?

His hand moved up and down his erection. Teasingly at first, then faster, then tighter. He rubbed the precum into the head. Connor bit his bottom lip; almost enough to split it. His free hand hit the back wall as the sensations swamped his circuits. 

He was supposed to stay utterly silent. Masturbating at work was enough to get him fired if anyone found out. Yet, as the images of you in your uniform running a tongue over his lips and handling his manhood while your tits pressed against him, Connor started to lose control. 

He was submerged in his own world, ignoring the realities around him. Connor just wanted you; he wanted to be in you, it didn't matter what hole as long as it could take all of him in. He threw his head back and he almost lost his grip on the wall.

“(Y/n)... Ngh-” 

With that, Connor had his first orgasm at work, and he knew this wouldn't be his last. 

_”What the fuck? Oi, Dickless, is that you?!”_

Connor froze.

Gavin fucking Reed.


End file.
